Circles
by NaomiP
Summary: Sequel to Ice. S9. Something from Abby's and Luka's past comes back to haunt them and change their lives. Will shared pain be enough to bring these two together again? COMPLETE in 37 chapters. Some violence, a little sex.
1. Chapter 1

Authors note, as always.  
  
First off, I _will_ finish "Boys' Club". But I'm a bit stuck and frustrated with it right now, so I'm starting something new. Something more my style ... you know ... angst ... misery ... pain ...  
  
Second, despite what it may appear in the first paragraphs, this is _not_ particularly a Carby ... so all you hopeful All-Carby-All-the-Time fans can stop reading now and go home. Carter and Abby are a couple, because the fic is set in S9, and the show had them a couple. (And yeah, their couple-ness is relevent to the story.) The setting is late S9, early spring. It's set in pretty much the same version of the ER universe in which "What Child is This" and "Ice" dwell. (But a different one from my either of my Congo fics, since Luka would be unlikely to go off to Africa.)  
  
And a general warning: the fic is a bit rough and edgy in spots. Not enough, IMO, to put it at an R rating (you don't actually see the roughest stuff happen), but be aware, and read or not accordingly).  
  
And I don't own ER or Abby Lockhart or Luka Kovac or John Carter, or anyone else who appears here. I do own this particular story, and you need my permission before you do anything but read it or print it out for your own enjoyment.]  
  
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"Ok, Ed. You're all set to go." Abby watched her patient shuffle off towards chairs and looked at the clock. Only 5 minutes left in her shift. Usually she'd be glad about that. As much as Abby liked her job, (and most days Abby really did like her job) she was usually glad when the day was over and she could go home. Home to an evening with Carter, or just to a hot bath and the tv.  
  
But not today. Today, she dreaded going home.  
  
She headed for the desk, just as Carter came out of the lounge. She hadn't seen him come in. "Have a good day?" he asked.  
  
"Same as always."  
  
"Exciting plans for the evening?"  
  
"As long as you're on nights and I'm on days, my social life _isn't_ going to be exactly scintillating."  
  
"Would that be social life or sex life?" Carter asked with a teasing smile.  
  
"Either one." Abby put the chart on top of the pile. "I'll bet if you bribed Kerry enough, she'd put you back on days."  
  
"Or you on nights?"  
  
"Oh no. I've done enough nights for a while. I like seeing daylight." She looked around for a minute. "It's pretty quiet so far, John. You _could_ see me home ... Kerry won't miss you for half an hour." She heard the anxiety in her voice.  
  
"You need to relax," Carter said, sounding more than a little irritable. "There is no one _there_! I walked you home three times last week, and there's no-one there."  
  
"Someone is following me." The anxiety increased.  
  
"Have you seen him?" Carter was calm, reasonable.  
  
"No," Abby admitted. "But I can ... feel him."  
  
"Or maybe you've just got the jitters. Look, it's not really dark yet. If you hurry home, you'll be there before it gets dark, and safe in your apartment. And I'll call you in a few hours to check in, make sure everything's ok."  
  
He smiled and pulled her into his arms. "I do miss seeing you, you know," he said. "I'd walk you home if I could ... just for the pleasant company."  
  
"I miss you too. Feels like we've just been ships passing in the night for the past couple of weeks."  
  
"Well, we're both off tomorrow. We can make up for lost time."  
  
"Tie up to the same dock?" Abby joked. She already felt a little better with Carter's arms around her.   
  
"Or slip into the same berth?"   
  
"Probably." She sighed. "Well, I should go if I'm to make it before dark."  
  
Carter was right, of course. She just had the jitters. Last week there had been _two_ 'incidents' in the ER. (So much for the metal detectors keeping things safe!) Lydia had needed 4 stitches in her leg after being knocked down by a coked up junkie. And one of the med students had ended up with a concussion after getting caught in the middle of a scuffle between two 12 year old gang bangers.   
  
So of course she'd be jittery and nervous. But still....  
  
Going into the lounge for her coat, Abby bumped into Luka coming out. She couldn't help noticing that he didn't have his coat on. "I thought you were off at 7," she said.  
  
"I am. But I have a few patients to finish up."  
  
"So hand them off to Carter."   
  
"No, it's ok. It would take me longer to explain to him what's going on than to do it myself. Another half hour or so and I should be on my way. I'm just waiting on some labs."   
  
"Ok. Have a nice evening, then."   
  
"You too." He smiled at her for a moment, then headed back towards the exam rooms.   
  
Abby watched him go. _He_ would walk her home if she asked, she knew. But she couldn't ask. He wouldn't understand. Men didn't tend to understand things like this. Men weren't taught, from childhood, to be afraid of shadows and the things that lurked in them. Carter obviously didn't understand. But then, even she didn't really understand this one, so she couldn't exactly blame him. Or maybe _Luka_ was the one? Could have been following her? Stalking her? 'Come on, don't be ridiculous, Abby! Why would he be following you? And he isn't the sort to exactly fade into the shadows anyway. 6 foot 4 inch guys tend to stand out, or at least stand over their surroundings ....  
  
Taking a deep breath, Abby headed out into the ambulance bay. Lots of people around, and still not quite dark yet. She got to the el platform just as the train pulled in.  
  
Abby grabbed the last available seat on the train.(Screw the other riders she thought, a bit irritably. She'd been on her feet all day!) She made herself relax as she thought about her evening. A hot bath. Maybe pizza ... or maybe she'd try the new Indian place up the block. Her downstairs neighbor said they were good. If there wasn't anything good on tv tonight, she'd watch a video ... maybe "Butch Cassidy." A nice quiet evening at home. She did miss Carter, but there was something to be said for a nice quiet evening at home.  
  
Two other people got off at her stop, a 20-something looking man; large, well muscled, in gang-style clothing, and a somewhat younger woman. Abby hesitated for a moment on the platform, then relaxed again as they walked off together, hand in hand, laughing together.   
  
Head down, Abby started walking quickly for home. What was _wrong_ with her? She'd been living in Chicago for years. She'd long since gotten past the "small-town-girl-in-the-big-city nerves. It's something you have to do, or else you end up hiding in your apartment every night. How many times had she walked from the el to her apartment, alone? Often when it was far darker outside, and the hour was much later.   
  
Abby made it to her front door. She already had her keys in hand, and she quickly unlocked the door and stepped the lobby. And found herself taking a deep breath. This was crazy. Or maybe _she_ was crazy. All that alcohol fried a few brain cells along the way, Lockhart? Just junk mail in the box. She started for the stairs, then remembered her dinner plans. She didn't have a menu.  
  
Ralene answered her knock. "Hi, Abby. Just get off work?"  
  
"Yeah. Do you have a delivery menu for that new Indian place you were telling me about?"  
  
"Sure. Come on in. It's on my fridge."  
  
Abby waited in the living room while Ralene got the menu for her. "Can I borrow it?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah, take it. I'm actually _cooking_ tonight. Can you believe it? Bring it back when you're done, or just slide it under my door if I'm not home. Or you can just keep it if you like the food. I'll pick up another."  
  
"Thanks," Abby said, taking it from her. "Have a good evening."  
  
Abby browsed the menu as she slowly climbed the stairs. Vindaloo sounded good. Some hot Indian food .. then some hot Redford ...  
  
Ralene had said they do a mean Vindaloo. 


	2. Chapter 2

Luka signed his last chart with a flourish and sighed a little. So much for 'another half an hour,' he thought. He _should_ have just handed off to Carter and gotten out on schedule. Just as he had been about to leave, a two car MVA had rolled in; 3 majors, 3 minors. He'd stayed to help. Not that it had made much difference, really. His patient, a 7 year old boy, had crashed in minutes, and the rest of the hour had been spent trying to get him back.   
  
8:20. It didn't really matter if he was leaving late, of course. It wasn't like he had anywhere pressing to be this evening. He was just ... tired. He'd go home, have some supper, maybe play computer games for a while, then go to bed. Alone. Another little sigh. Alone wasn't great, but it beat sleeping with strangers ... his only other option these past few months.  
  
The walk from the el to his apartment seemed very long. Not that it wasn't a pleasant night; clear, full moon, a little chilly, but that was expected in March. But he _was_ tired. It had been a lousy day all around. He'd lost three patients, two of them kids. Ever since Dr. Finch had left last year, there hadn't been a pediatrician in the ER. The other docs tended to assume that because _he_ loved kids, he should take most of the pediatric cases that rolled in. And usually he _did_ enjoy working with kids. Ear infections, broken arms, rashes were all fine. But not trauma. Pediatric trauma still hit just a little too close to home for him -- especially when they died.

A quiet evening at home. He was looking forward to it.   
  
Inside the apartment he shed his coat and tossed it on the couch, then headed for the kitchen. Should he cook or send out for something?   
  
The door buzzer startled him. Damn. The intercom was broken. He'd been meaning to talk to the landlord about getting it fixed, but it wasn't as if he had dozens of visitors every day. He'd have to trudge downstairs again to see who was there. Or, he could just buzz him in. It was probably a mistake anyway, someone ringing the wrong doorbell. He _didn't _have many visitors, and he wasn't expecting anyone.   
  
Luka hit the button that would unlock the street door. Hopefully whoever it was would hear the click and just come in. If not, he'd have to go downstairs. He opened his own front door and stepped out into the hall. He heard the street door open; heard footsteps on the stairs. A man, youngish, maybe 25. Looking about as tired as Luka felt. Or maybe nervous and strained. It was hard to tell in the dim light, and Luka was too tired to care very much anyway. He stood a bit hunched over, with his hands in his pockets. The man looked dimly familiar, but Luka couldn't quite place him.   
  
"Dr. Kovac?" The voice too was vaguely familiar.  
  
"Yes. Can I help ..."  
  
"Just making sure." The stranger's voice was cold now. He stepped forward, took his hands from his pockets. A flash of metal in the dimly lit hallway -- and Luka suddenly stumbled backwards, some unseen force shoving him back. The wall stopped him.  
  
Luka just stood there for a moment, stunned, trying to figure out what had happened. His ears were ringing. He felt strange; dizzy. And his shirt was wet. Why was his shirt wet? His hand went instinctively to the spot, just at the bottom of his ribs. Something warm spilled between his fingers.   
  
Blood. He was bleeding. Why was he bleeding? He realized slowly ... everything seemed to be happening very slowly now ... that the man was holding a gun. The blood was from a bullet hole in his side.   
  
The stranger was just standing there, watching him. And Luka's legs suddenly refused to hold him any longer. His knees buckled and he slid slowly down the wall. He tasted salt.   
  
The part of his brain that was still a doctor found itself automatically analyzing the situation, assessing the patient.   
  
Not much pain. Luka was a bit surprised at how little pain there was.  
  
The bullet had hit the lower left side of his chest. Probably didn't hit anything too vital, but he would be bleeding into his lungs. If the man would just leave, he could get back into the apartment, call 911. If he could get help before he bled to death, before his lungs filled with blood, he should survive. But those were two very big _IF_'s. He was bleeding badly, already starting to go into shock. Maybe that's why it didn't hurt too much, he thought. He was already in shock. And the stranger gave no indication that he intended to leave any time soon. He was still just standing there, watching him.

Why had this man just shot him? A robbery? He made no move to take Luka's wallet, or enter the apartment. He just stood there. Smiling a little now.   
  
"What..." Luka choked a little, swallowed blood. "What do you want?"  
  
"Just settling up a score. You ruined my life, now I'm ruining yours. In a very final and definite sort of way."  
  
"Ruined your life?" Luka stared. Who _was_ this man? A patient maybe? Someone he'd misdiagnosed, or been unable to help? "I don't understand."  
  
"You and Abby. You took everything I had; my wife, my career, my future ... my life."  
  
Brian.   
  
The last time Luka had seen him, _he_ was bleeding, at Luka's hands; bleeding and crying, proving clearly to everyone what a coward he really was. Brave enough to beat up women half his size, but a coward when faced with a fair opponent. Now was standing there looking a bit strained still, but quite calm. He was still a coward, of course, but courage isn't necessary when you have a loaded gun, and the willingness to use it.  
  
And Abby ... he might try to hurt Abby too! He _had_ to hold on ... survive long enough to warn Abby! Why wouldn't Brian leave? Luka swallowed blood again.  
  
Brian was still talking quietly. "Life's funny sometimes, you know. Do you remember what you said to me the last time we met? You told me that if I ever touched Abby again, you would kill me. Do you remember that? Well ... I _did_ touch Abby. Would you like to hear _how_ I touched her? I can tell you if you want. And I can tell you how she screamed while I was touching her."  
  
Luka shut his eyes. Wished he could shut his ears. He couldn't bear to be hearing this. He felt sick to his stomach.  
  
"And not only that," Brian went on. "But _you _are the one who dies. I touch Abby _and_ I kill you. Ironic, doncha think?"  
  
Luka ran his tongue over his lips. "You'd better get out of here," he said. "I have neighbors . someone will have heard the shot ... called the police."  
  
"There's no hurry."  
  
Luka didn't want to know, didn't think he could bear to hear the answer. But he had to know, had to ask. "Is she dead?"  
  
"Who? Abby?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
A shrug. "I don't know. Couldn't say, really. That will have to be one of life's little mysteries, won't it. You'll have to die never knowing if she's alive or dead. Of course, once you get to heaven -- or hell -- if she's there, you'll have your answer, right?"

He was lying. He had to be. Abby would _never_ have opened the door for him, let him into her apartment. She was much too cautious these days. Brian was just trying to hurt him by making him believe it was true.

"You are a bastard ..." It wasn't much of an insult, but Luka couldn't think of anything better right now. At least not in English. He knew plenty of Croatian insults, but Brian wouldn't understand them, so there was real no point in saying them, even though it make make _him _feel a little better to do it. It was too hard to breathe for him to be wasting breath on stuff like that.  
  
"Maybe. But I'm the one with the gun, so that doesn't really matter what you think of me, does it?"  
  
The faint wail of sirens in the distance. That had to be the police. Please let it be the police ... the paramedics.   
  
"You'd better get out of here," he said again. "Cops are coming."  
  
"I'll be going soon. I mean .. it's not much of a life you've left me anyway."  
  
The sirens were closer. At the edge of his vision Luka saw the reflections of flashing lights, through the open apartment door, shining in through the window.  
  
'Ok, Kovac ...' he thought, though it was getting very hard to think. 'Just a few more minutes. Help is here. You can't die until you tell them about Abby ... you have to get help for Abby.' Just in case Brian _wasn't _lying. But could he do that? He was losing too much blood. It was still spilling out between his fingers. He was sitting in a pool of blood.  
  
The hand holding the gun moved a little -- and an explosion of pain in his chest. This time, it did hurt. Horribly.

It wasn't fair, he thought dimly, as he slid helplessly towards the blackness. Why did the bullet that killed him have to hurt so much? Why would pain have to be the last thing he would ever know? And worse, he had failed Abby. If Abby died, it would be his fault.

Then, as if from very far away, he seemed to hear a third shot, but he didn't feel that one. He didn't feel anything anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

Carter headed towards the desk to take another chart just as Haleh signed off the radio. "We'll be ready. County base out."  
  
"What's coming in?" Carter asked.  
  
"Two GSWs, one in full arrest. ETA less than two."   
  
Carter sighed. This was _not_ shaping up to be a good evening. He'd started out with a double MVA with two fatalities, and now this. And he was barely two hours into the shift! Must be the full moon. It didn't help that he was in a bad mood anyway. He'd barely seen Abby for weeks, and now she was suddenly being clingy and paranoid; an attitude that, somehow, made him feel annoyed and irritated rather than loving and protective.  
  
"Ok. Make sure both trauma rooms are ready; and that there's 2 units of O-neg for each, and page Lewis and Weaver. I'll be outside."  
  
He headed out into the chilly ambulance bay. Probably a gang shooting he thought. Just so neither of them were innocent bystanders. Carter was surprised by the thought. He must be getting hard ... been at this too long. He didn't care if gang members shot each other, just so they didn't hit anyone else. A vacation. Maybe it was time for a vacation.   
  
Sirens and flashing lights. Back doors of the ambulance opened, and Carter rushed to help the paramedics lift down the gurney. Doris was squeezing an ambu-bag, and a cop was doing chest compressions.   
  
Doris began rattling off the bullet. "Adult male. Two GSWs to the chest. At the scene was minimally responsive to pain, in respiratory arrest. Was initially in v-tach, lost the pulse about 30 seconds out. Pressure's 60 palp. Intubated at the scene and started a line ..."  
  
Doris's voice seemed more strained than usual, but Carter wasn't really hearing her anymore. He was looking at the man on the gurney. Tall, his feet hung off the end. His shirt sleeves were blue, but the front of his shirt was a deep red. And the face behind the ambu-bag was utterly white except for some blood around his mouth and his black eyebrows and lashes, and blue-green eyes beneath half-closed lids. Utterly white and painfully familiar.  
  
He looked up at Doris, and she looked away uneasily. "Why didn't you say something?" he demanded, fear and shock making his own voice harsher than it should have been.   
  
"I didn't know how to tell you." A pause. "Second victim's behind us."  
  
Carter pulled himself together. He had a job to do. "Ok. Let's get him inside. Trauma 2."   
  
Carter turned, just as Susan stepped out into the bay. She too registered the identity of the man on the gurney, and breathed softly "Oh, Jesus...."  
  
Inside they met Kerry, also enroute to the bay. "We've got this one, Kerry," Carter said. "Second victim should be rolling in now."  
  
"I've got it," Kerry agreed, then her eyes widened in momentary shock as she looked at the patient, then at Carter again.   
  
Carter's head was spinning. Luka had just left! Not half an hour ago. He must have been mugged on his way from the el, he thought. Or maybe stopped to intervene in an fight, or help someone who was being mugged ... which might explain the second victim. So like Luka, he thought, to risk his own life to help another. But was that courage, or just a feeling that his own life wasn't worth much? These days, Carter was more apt to believe the second explanation.   
  
In the trauma room, everything shifted into the sense of barely controlled chaos that typified a trauma. Everyone knew their job and did it smoothly, but with 6 different jobs being done all at once, a less knowledgeable outsider might believe that it _was_ chaos. Cutting away clothing, hanging blood, doing CPR, getting monitor leads, taking vitals -- not that Luka had any at the moment.   
  
Carter touched the paddles to Luka's chest and looked at the monitor to see what they registered.   
  
"He's in fib," said Haleh.   
  
One shock. Still fib. "Come on, Luka," Carter whispered. "You are _not_ going to die on our fucking doorstep, do you hear me?"  
  
A second turn with the paddles, and Haleh's voice came, relieved. "Sinus tach." Not ideal, but better than what he'd had before.  
  
"He's not going to stay that way," Susan said, "unless we can get his pressure up. He's lost most of his volume. Squeeze in that blood, and we'll need a lot more blood. All the o-neg we've got, and type and cross for type specific _now_!"  
  
"There's another victim," Yosh reminded her. "He'll need blood too."   
  
Carter looked through the window to the other trauma room. He could see Kerry and Pratt working on someone, but couldn't tell what was happening.

He looked back at Luka. Two small holes in his chest. How could someone lose so much blood from two such very small holes?   
  
"He's B-positive," said Haleh. "He's mentioned that several times."  
  
"Ok. Get 6 units of B-positive down here," said Susan.   
  
"Thoracotomy?" suggested Gallant.. "If we can find where he's bleeding ..."  
  
"Not unless I have to." Carter knew well that survival rates after thoracotomy were very low. Far better to stablize him here, if they could, and let the surgeons open him up in the more controlled setting of the OR. And the idea of opening Luka's chest made him shudder a little.   
  
Gallant had been listening to Luka's lungs. "Well, he needs a chest tube anyway. Absent breath sounds on the left."  
  
"Fine. Do it."  
  
For a moment there was a lull, as Gallant put in the chest tube, they squeezed in the blood and continued to quietly assess him, fear and nerves masquerading as calm professionalism. Carter looked up at Doris, who was still hovering by, anxiously. "What the hell happened?"  
  
"I'm not sure. He was lying outside his apartment door. The shooter was lying a few feet away with a self-inflicted gunshot wound. We heard the shots as we were pulling up, but it was a few minutes before we could go in. The cops weren't sure at first if the gunman was still shooting, or there might be a second one. They wouldn't let us in until they'd secured the scene."  
  
'Well ..' thought Carter ironically. 'At least he wasn't going to die on his _own_ doorstep.'  
  
Luka's vitals were starting to stabilize as his blood volume increased and the chest tube relieved some of the pressure in his chest. "BP's up to 80 systolic," said Yosh quietly. "Pulse down to 110." Better. Blood was still flowing steadily out the chest tube, he was still bleeding into his chest, but he was starting to make faint choking sounds around the ET tube, trying to breathe.  
  
Just then the adjoining door opened and Kerry came in. "How's he doing?"  
  
"We're starting to get him stabilized. . Two GSWs, one to the lower chest, one looked like it nicked the aorta. Just missed his heart. He's lost a hell of a lot of blood, but the damage should be operable once we get him upstairs."  
  
"Good." She said the one brief word calmly, but the relief in her eyes was clear.   
  
"How's your patient?" Susan asked, and Kerry shook her head.  
  
"DOA. We gave it a shot but he left most of his brains at the scene. Never had a chance."

Carter found it hard to feel particularly sorry about that.

Haleh said quietly, "Dr. Carter." Carter looked at Luka. His eyelids were fluttering a little. He was looking at them. 


	4. Chapter 4

Luka was looking at them, and around the room. He looked confused ... scared ... it was hard to tell for sure. Maybe just in pain.  
  
And for a moment Carter saw himself lying on the gurney. It hadn't been so long ago that _he_ had been the trauma, fighting for his life after an apparently senseless attack. A fight that had ended up changing his life in so many ways. Had he looked like that? Frightened? A little lost? On that day it had been Luka standing beside the gurney, saving _his_ life. Would he be able to return the favor? And if he did, how would this change Luka's life? You're never the same after something like that. Drug addictions aside, this is something that changes you forever.  
  
"Hey, Luka," said Carter gently. "Can you hear me?" A slow nod. Carter slipped his hand into Luka's. "Can you squeeze my hand?" A slight pressure. "Good. That's fine." Then a faint choking sound again as Luka tried to speak, but the ET tube, attached to a ventilator now, made it impossible. "Don't try to talk, Luka. There's a tube in your throat to help you breathe. You can't talk right now." Luka nodded again. He understood. But his eyes were starting to droop a little. He was going to slip under again in a minute.   
  
"Do you know where you are?" Yes. "Do you remember what happened to you?" A frown, a slow looking around the room, then a shake of the head. Carter took a breath. "You were shot. The bullets hit your chest, but you're doing fine ..."  
  
Luka's eyes suddenly widened. A panicked look on his face.  
  
"It's ok, Luka," Susan said quickly. "You really are doing fine. In a few minutes we're going to take you upstairs to surgery."  
  
But Luka wasn't hearing her any more. Wasn't listening. He was starting to struggle as the panic enveloped him. Was trying to talk, starting to fight the vent.  
  
"Luka!" Carter said. "It's ok. Everything's ok now. You're safe here."  
  
Luka pulled his hand away, tried to grab the ET tube, choking, gagging. "Luka!" Carter said again. He took Luka's wrists, held them firmly. "Don't pull on the tube. It has to stay in."  
  
Tears spilled over; panicked, frightened tears. Luka looked from Carter to Susan and back again, still choking on the tube.  
  
From Susan, gently. "I know there's something you want to tell us. It can wait. You're going to be ok. Whatever it is, you can tell us after surgery, when you're feeling a little better. Right now you have to just relax, let the vent do its job."  
  
Carter felt Luka's arms relax as he stopped struggling and, after a moment, he cautiously released his wrists. For a minute Luka lay quietly, but still crying.. Then he started to look around again, clearly looking for something. His eyes focused on Kerry. She had removed her yellow coverall in the other room. His hand moved again and he reached towards her. Kerry's eyes followed his hand. He was reaching for her lab coat pocket. A pen was sticking out the top.  
  
"My pen?" Kerry asked. And a relieved nod from Luka.  
  
Carter sighed. Luka clearly wasn't going to settle down until he'd told them whatever he had to say, and the agitation wasn't doing him any good. His pulse-rate had increased dramatically, something he didn't need right now.  
  
"Ok, Luka." Carter motioned to Kerry for the pen, and found a pad of paper in his own pocket. "You tell us whatever it is, then we're going to go upstairs."  
  
A nod from Luka. Carter handed him the pen and held the pad where he could write on it. Luka was shaking and still crying just a little. This was so unlike him, Carter thought. Luka had never struck him as being a man who would cry, not even in a situation like this. It had to be something more than the fear of death, shock over the knowlege that he had been shot, or even the pain, that was upsetting him so much.

Luka could barely hold onto the pen. Slowly, shakily, he made a letter on the paper. It was a scrawl really, but it looked like an A. Focused attention, then a second letter. It had better be a short message, Carter thought. At this rate he wasn't going to get more than a few letters down before he passed out again ... or before he filled the small pad. It was just as well, perhaps, that the pen slipped from his fingers after Luka had written the second letter. It was a B.   
  
And Luka seemed to think that was enough. The tears had stopped. He looked questioningly at Carter, then at Susan. Obviously expected them to understand. Baffled, Carter looked at Susan, who shook her head. She didn't have a clue either.   
  
"I don't understand, Luka." Carter said gently. "It can wait, ok? You'll tell us ..."

Frustration. Luka's hands balled into fists, he looked like he was fighting tears again.

Then Susan's eyes widened a bit. "Abby. Is that what you're saying?" A relieved nod from Luka.  
  
"Abby isn't on tonight," Haleh said. "She was on with you this afternoon, remember?"   
  
And a frantic shake of the head. The panic starting to return. "Do you want us to call her? Tell her what happened?" asked Susan. No.   
  
Carter had never felt so helpless. It was something terribly important, that was obvious. But what could Luka be trying to tell them about Abby?  
  
Luka moved his hand, touched the gauze bandage that covered the bullet wound in his lower chest. And looked again at Carter. Carter shook his head, still lost. Could Luka be saying that Abby had done this? That _she _had shot him? No ... that was absurd. Besides, they had the shooter already. He was dead in the next room awaiting a visit to the coroner.  
  
And then, the realization. This wasn't a robbery. It wasn't a mugging. This guy had shot Luka and then offed himself. This was something personal. And if was personal against Luka ...  
  
"Is Abby hurt?" A nod. Relief that that they finally understood. "Is she in your apartment?" No. "Do you know where she is?" No. And he was fighting to keep his eyes open now.  
  
"Run of 5," Yosh said softly, and Susan said, "We've got to get him upstairs, Carter. His pressure's dropping."  
  
"In a minute. Start a lido drip, Yosh. And Haleh, call 911. Tell them to get a police car and an ambulance to Abby's apartment." She had to be there. She had to be. "Kerry, do we have an ID on the shooter?"  
  
"An Idaho driver license. Name's Brian Westlake."  
  
"Brian." Susan said slowly. "Is that the guy who beat her up last year ... used to be her neighbor?" Luka was nodding again, frantically.   
  
"Ok, Luka," Carter said. "We're going to find Abby and help her. And now you're going upstairs so the surgeons can help _you_." Luka shook his head again. "We can't wait any longer. Abby will be _very_ pissed if she finds out we let you die. We'll find Abby and you'll see her when you come out of surgery."  
  
Susan and Yosh left to take Luka up to the OR. And Carter pulled out his cell phone, dialed Abby's number. It rang. "Pick up, Abby .... Please, pick up ...." Luka was wrong, he was mistaken. He had to be.  
  
A click. "Abby!"   
  
A cheerful voice "Hi, this is Abby. I'm not here right now."   
  
"Abby, it's John. Pick up!"  
  
"Leave a message at the beep ...."  
  
"Abby, it's important. Please pick up now!" 

"... and I'll get back to you."

A beep, then a long silence. John listened silently until the machine switched off automatically, then he closed the cell in his fist. After a moment he tried her cell phone, and that one just rang and rang.  
  
She had to be there. She had to be. But he could have taken her anywhere. No ... she knew better than that. She knew that you _never_ go with an attacker, you _never_ let him take you somewhere else. She had to be there, or in the three short blocks between the el station and her apartment.   
  
She had to be. 


	5. Chapter 5

Ralene lay back on the sofa, scraped the last bit of cheese from the bowl, and let herself float away on the music. One of the nice things about living alone. You didn't have to worry about set meal times, or even eating at the table. And nobody could nag you about balanced meals. If she wanted to have an entire "family-sized" box of Kraft Dinner and half a bottle of Zinfandel for dinner, while stretched out on the couch listening to old Rolling Stones on vinyl, she could do that.

Though, she thought, this _probably_ wasn't what she'd led Abby to believe when she'd told her she was cooking tonight. Abby didn't cook all that much herself, she knew. But still, the few meals she'd seen Abby prepare in the 6 months she'd lived here at least _looked_ relatively balanced. They usually at least contained a vegetable..

Ralene got up to put the bowl in the sink. She'd wash it later. The pot too. She grabbed a handful of Oreos for dessert.

Of course the downside to living alone was that evenings were rather long and lonesome. Quiet evenings at home were nice, but not as a daily thing. Since breaking up with Justin 3 months ago she'd spent way the hell too many evenings eating Kraft Dinner with only Mick for company. She didn't have much in common with the rest of the people in the building. Mostly older people, couples and widows, and the Urbaniaks in 3C ... a nice enough young couple, but they barely spoke English.

She did get along pretty well with Abby ... not that they had all that much in common either. But they were both in their 30's, divorced -- and usually miserable.

Maybe she'd call her, see how she liked the New Taj. Or she could just go upstairs and see her. Walk off a few of those calories. Abby had told her yesterday that her boyfriend was working nights for a while, so she could probably stand the company too. She'd met John a couple of times, and knew he was a doctor. She wouldn't mind dating a doctor. Maybe John had a nice single friend ...

Grabbing her keys from the hook by the door, Ralene headed into the hall and upstairs. A piece of paper on the floor, right outside Abby's door. She picked it up. "The New Taj." Her menu. Abby must have dropped it, had probably changed her mind.

Ralene knocked. The apartment was very quiet. Abby usually had the tv on, or the stereo when she was home alone. Another knock. She thought she heard something ... a faint sound ... but still no answer. "Abby! Abby, are you there?" Nothing. Must've come from another apartment. The acoustics in the building were a little strange.

Maybe Abby had decided to go out for dinner. The New Taj did have tables, after all, and it was barely a block away. Or maybe she'd gone somewhere else entirely. Or she could be in the shower. Oh well. It wasn't like Abby was expected to report her movements to her! They were barely even friends. Just acquaintances who happened to live in the same building. 

Back in her apartment Ralene poured another glass of wine and stretched out on the couch again.

Sirens outside. Flashing lights. Nothing unusual in that. This wasn't the _best_ neighborhood in Chicago. They stopped just outside. Voices in the street. Someone pounding on the outside door.

Ralene hurried back out into the hall. Through the glass beside the door she could see two police officers, paramedics, an ambulance. God ... Mrs. Petrelli in 3A must've had another heart attack. It was bound to happen if she kept climbing all those stairs. She opened the door.

"Do you live here, ma'am?" asked the police officer. Blond, rather good looking. Maybe he was single.

"Yes. I'm in 1A, right here."

"Do you know an Abigail Lockhart?"

"Abby? She's upstairs in 2B. But she isn't home. I was just there a few minutes ago."

"Did you see her leave?"

"No. I saw her come in a couple of hours ago. I don't specifically remember her leaving, but I was just up there. I knocked and no-one answered. The apartment was really quiet. She must have gone out. I didn't hear the front door open, but I had the stereo on."

The second police officer had already gone upstairs. He yelled down, "No answer, Ken."

"Break it in."

"No," Ralene said quickly. "I have a key. She gave me a spare key. Wait a second." Running back into her apartment, Ralene grabbed the key on the Rocky the Flying Squirrel keyring, and handed it to Ken. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"We're not sure yet, ma'am. You just wait here. We'll bring the key back in a few minutes."

But Ralene couldn't keep herself from following Ken up the stairs. "She always keeps the door chained and deadbolted when she's home," she told them. "You may have to break it in anyway if she's ... hurt or something ..."

Ken turned the key in the lock, and the door swung open. "Miss Lockhart?" Silence. "Miss Lockhart, it's the police."

Ralene followed them inside. Everything in the living room looked normal. "Abby!" she called, her voice breaking a little. "Are you here? Are you ok?" More silence.

Then a slight sound, seemed to come from the bedroom. A sort of scuffling noise. Ralene trailed the two cops towards the bedroom. It also appeared, at first glance, to be empty. But a lamp was knocked over. And the phone. And there was blood on the bed; on the sheets and the pillow.

And on the floor ...

"Oh God ..." choked Ralene. She had been downstairs gorging herself on macaroni and cheese, listening to music. She hadn't heard a thing. And Abby ...

Two slender white legs stuck out from behind the bed. White, except for some bruises. Bare as far as she could see. Bare, that is, except for several layers of duct tape wrapped tightly around her ankles, binding them together.


	6. Chapter 6

Abby heard the door slam. He was gone. She would be grateful, glad; except for one small detail. He had gone to kill Luka.  
  
She began to struggle. She _hadn't_ struggled. She had done exactly as he'd told her.   
  
She remembered the hand over her mouth as she stood there unlocking her front door, feeling safe for the first time all day. A hand over her mouth, the ice-cold barrel of a gun pressed into her neck, warm breath in her hair as a voice has whispered, "Make a sound and you're dead, Nurse Lockhart. Understand?" She'd nearly fainted from the shock, but had somehow managed to keep her feet, knowing, perhaps that any sudden movement, even her body collapsing to the floor, might make him pull the trigger.  
  
She'd managed to nod, and he'd told her that if she did exactly as she was told, if she cooperated, she wouldn't get hurt.   
  
And then ... Abby shuddered at the memory of the events that had just ended. It had only been 20 minutes ... maybe 30 at most, but it had felt like a lifetime. He had pushed her through the door and closed it behind them ... and she'd turned to find herself looking at Brian Westlake, his eyes as cold as the metal of the gun he still held on her.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"Oh ... I think you can figure that one out, Abby."  
  
"No ... please ..." Not that she'd really thought that begging would help, but the words had just come out.   
  
And he'd belted her hard across the face, knocking her to the floor. "Maybe I wasn't clear, Abby. You cooperate, you don't make a fuss, and I get what I came for and leave ... with you just a little the worse for wear. You make a fuss, you give me a hard time ... and I promise you that neither one of us will be happy about it. Now ... into the bedroom." A smile. "We may as well be comfortable, right?"  
  
After that it had just been ... horrible. Not just the physical part. She found that she could almost ... not quite, but almost ... block that part out. But he had talked to her the whole time, not only about what he was doing to her, and why ... but about what he would do after he was finished with her. What he planned to do to Luka.   
  
When at last he _had_ finished with her, he had taken out a roll of duct tape, bound her hands behind her and her legs together. He'd put a strip of tape over her mouth. Then he had left without another word. Gone to find Luka. To tell Luka what had just happened to _her_, and then to kill him.   
  
She _had_ to get free ... get to the phone. She had to call Luka and warn him, or call the police. Abby struggled desperately, pulling at the tape, but it didn't budge. There were too many layers and it was too strong. Her wrist throbbed with the effort; she had twisted it in her initial fall.  
  
Abby started to cry for the first time, from pain, fear and frustration. 'Don't cry!' she told herself. If she cried, her nose would get stuffed up ... and with her mouth covered, she wouldn't be able to breathe. God ... that would be a humiliating way to die, wouldn't it? Abby almost laughed at the thought. She could see tomorrow's newspaper headline. _'Abigail_ _Lockhart_, _after_ _being_ _raped_ _and_ _beaten_ _up_, _died_ _from_ _a_ _stuffy_ _nose_.'  
  
Ok .. calm down ... there _had_ to be some way out of this. If she could make a noise ... there were other people in the building. _someone_ would hear ... come to investigate. The walls in the building were pretty thin.  
  
Abby struggled to a sitting position and looked around. The lamp. There was a lamp beside the bed. Maybe she could knock it over. It took some time. It was hard to move. The duct tape forced her body into an awkward position, and she was sore all over. (She and Brian had obviously had different definitions of what constituted 'cooperation' and 'won't get hurt.') Finally she managed to knock into the lamp and it fell very satisfactorily ... onto the carpeted floor with a soft thud, rather than the hoped-for crash. No-one could possibly had heard it. Or, if someone did, they wouldn't think it worth investigating.  
  
The phone was there too. If there was some way to get it off the hook .. dial ... She had to try. She had nothing to lose by trying. If she didn't succeed ... if Luka died ... at least she could know that she had tried. She couldn't talk, but if she could somehow dial 911, the computers would be able to trace the call to her address, send help. And hopefully they would get here in time for Luka.   
  
She struggled to grab the phone, or knock the receiver off the hook. Eventually she managed to knock it to the floor, and she pushed herself off the bed after it -- hitting the floor with a thud. A much harder thud, she thought bitterly, than the lamp had made. (But still not loud enough, she knew, to attract anyone's attention.) And she quickly discovered that it was simply impossible. With her arms tied behind her, she couldn't find the right buttons with her hands. Attempts to push the buttons with her chin were even more laughable. She could hit buttons all right ... just not the right ones.  
  
After perhaps 10 minutes of trying, Abby was exhausted. She lay on the floor and, despite her best intentions, sobbed. There was nothing she could do. She wasn't really afraid that _she_ would die. Her injuries, she knew, weren't life threatening, and she would, eventually, be missed. Carter had said he would call. When she didn't answer, he would worry, and come to investigate. Or, at worst, he would show up tomorrow morning. He had a key. He would let himself in and find her.   
  
But it would be too late for Luka. Luka would die and it _would_ be all her fault. Her fault because she had been the one to piss off Brian in the first place, and he'd only been trying to protect her when _he_ had gone after Brian last year. And her fault because she was too stupid, too exhausted, too sick to be able to figure out a way to get help for him.  
  
Abby lay on the floor and wept, and shivered. She was cold. The apartment was chilly, and she was naked. And she was scared. And she kept seeing in her imagination, Luka lying in the street, bleeding. She could hear him moaning in pain ... and it was all her fault.   
  
Finally the adrenaline that had been coursing through her veins for so long began to dissipate, leaving her weak and even more exhausted. Despite everything, Abby drifted into a light sleep.   
  
A noise startled her awake. Someone was knocking on her door. "Abby! Abby, are you there?" And Abby tried desperately to make some sound, to let her visitor (it sounded like Ralene), know that she was here. Hope gave her new strength, and she managed to kick the bedframe, kick her feet on the floor, but she only succeeded in adding a few new bruises to her legs. It was, she knew well, nowhere near loud enough to be heard through the closed bedroom door, the living room and into the hall. And after a few moments, the knocking and calling stopped, and there was only silence again.  
  
Then, the phone. Three rings, and the machine picked up, "Hi, this is Abby. I'm not here right now ..." and John's voice. "Abby, it's John. Pick up ...." He had kept his word. He had said he would call and he did. Surely he would worry when she didn't answer ... come over. He _would_ come over soon. He had to.  
  
It seemed like only moments, and there were sirens in the street, flashing lights through the window. _'Please_ ... _please_ ... _please_ ....' Then minutes felt like hours again as she waited ... heard voices in the hall ... someone knocking on the door ... a key in the lock. 


	7. Chapter 7

[A really short chapter today. But next time will be a really long one. The usual case of a _very_ long chapter which was most sensibly split in two rather unevenly.]  
  
----------  
  
Susan stepped into the elevator and pushed "one". She was thankful that it was empty, and she leaned against the wall and took a deep breath -- allowed herself, finally, the luxury of wiping her eyes, letting herself shiver just a little.   
  
This wasn't happening. It was a nightmare. Strangers came into the ER, bleeding and dying. Not friends. Not people she worked with every day.  
  
She had left Luka in the very capable hands of the pre-op nurses, and it was reassuring to have learned that Anspaugh would be doing the surgery. There weren't many hands at County more capable than his. But still, hers and Carter's cheerful words to him notwithstanding, she knew well that Luka was a long way from being out of the woods.   
  
And Abby. She _had_ to be ok. But logic, bitter, irrefutable logic told her that this wasn't likely to be the case.   
  
Doris had said that they'd heard the shots, at least some of them, as they'd pulled up to Luka's building. It had been a matter of minutes before he'd been on his way to the hospital. But Brian had gone to Abby's first. She could have been lying there (lying anywhere ... they didn't even know where she was!) for an hour or more.   
  
And Luka's injuries showed, quite clearly, that Brian had been a pretty good shot. It was pure luck that the second bullet had missed his heart; and pure luck that the paramedics had arrived moments later. Was it even possible that Abby could have survived this long?   
  
Stepping out the elevator into the ER, she noticed an odd hush about the place. The usual bustle of nurses and doctors and medical students was absent ... or at least greatly reduced. The board was backing up, and patients in chairs and in exam rooms had been largely forgotten. Carter and Kerry, and quite a few of the nurses and residents were standing around the desk, staring at the radio -- as if willing it to come to life. No-one said anything. No-one knew what unit had been sent to Abby's. All they could do was wait.  
  
After what felt like days, but was really only moments, the radio finally crackled to life. "County base, this is 31." And for another long moment no-one moved. No-one reached to pick up the mic. Susan was just about to do it when Haleh picked it up.   
  
"This is County base, go ahead 31."  
  
"We're enroute with a 14 year old boy ... auto vs. pedestrian ..." And Susan stopped listening. She saw everyone else wilt slightly as hope and anxiety gave way again to numb fear.   
  
When 31 finally signed off, they all looked at each other. Who was going to take this one? Nobody wanted to leave the radio, nobody wanted to be occupied with another patient when Abby finally arrived. Maybe they didn't need an attending for this one. 31 had said that the boy was stable, with good vitals and his only apparent injury a tib-fib fracture. Surely a resident could handle that.  
  
As if he'd read her mind, Pratt said, "I'll go wait for this one."  
  
God ... what was taking so long? What if she wasn't there? How long would it take them to find her? Maybe days. Maybe they'd never ... no, Susan wasn't going to let herself think that. It had really only been a couple of minutes. These things took time.  
  
And again, the radio. "53 to County Base." This time _everyone_ jumped for the radio. Carter got there first.   
  
"This is County base. What have you got?"  
  
"County, we're about 3 minutes out with ..." The radio fell silent for a moment. Susan saw Carter's grip tighten on the microphone, his knuckles were white with the strain. Then, all attempts at proper protocol abandoned, the paramedic continued, "We have Abby. She's alive." 


	8. Chapter 8

"Thank you." Susan wasn't sure if Carter was thanking the paramedic on the other end of the radio, or uttering a prayer. He put the mic down and then supported himself for a moment on the edge of the desk. She could see him trembling.  
  
The news was good. Abby was alive. She was conscious and alert, and her vitals were stable. Much more than that, they didn't know. But they were all guessing .. imagining.  
  
"John," Kerry said. "Susan and I will take this one."  
  
"No, I'm fine."  
  
"You couldn't possibly be professional, and there's no reason you should have to force yourself to try. We'll evaluate her, and as soon as possible you can come in and be with her ... as her friend, _not_ her doctor. You go see if Pratt needs help. We'll let you know as soon as we know anything."  
  
Carter sighed, then headed towards Trauma 1, where the 14 year old had just been taken moments before.   
  
Susan knew full well why Kerry didn't want Carter working on Abby. She had not, apparently, been badly hurt. She obviously hadn't been shot. But she _had_ been injured; Brian had done _something_ to her, that was clear. It was very likely then, that he had raped her. And Carter shouldn't have to deal with that. Susan wished that _she_ didn't have to deal with it. But she knew that, as hard as it was going to be for her, it would still be easier for her than for Carter.   
  
She could already hear the sirens as she and Kerry headed towards the bay to wait for the ambulance. Out in the bay with Kerry, she met her eyes for moment. Neither spoke, but Susan could see that Kerry was just as nervous as she was.   
  
A few moments later the ambulance pulled in, and Susan and Kerry hurried to help lift down the gurney. Abby lay on it.   
  
"Alert and oriented times 3," the paramedic was saying. "A little tachy at 110, BP 120 over 80, resps 30."  
  
Susan wasn't really listening though. Of course Abby was tachy and breathing too fast, she thought. She was upset and crying, almost hysterical. Her face was badly cut and bruised, and there was a sharply delineated rectangular patch around her mouth that was raw and red.  
  
As soon as she saw Susan and Kerry, she said, "Please ... you have to get help for Luka. He's hurt ... he could be dead ... I kept trying to tell them ..."  
  
"Abby!" Susan said. "It's ok."  
  
"No ... he was going to kill ..."  
  
"We know. He's already here. We're taking care of him." Susan kept her own voice very calm.  
  
Abby looked from Susan to Kerry, and Kerry said, "Yes, Abby. He's here already."  
  
"He's ok?" Abby was little calmer now too.   
  
"We're taking good care of him," Susan said again gently. "Now, I don't want you to worry about Luka. Let's think about yourself right now."  
  
Abby didn't miss Susan's hedging, and hysteria came back into her voice. "He's dead, isn't he? He's dead and you're not telling me." They had reached the trauma room, and Abby tried to look through the glass into the other room where Carter and Pratt were working. Susan saw Carter look up too, trying to see Abby. "Is he in there?"  
  
"Close the blinds, Haleh," Kerry said softly, then to Abby. "Abby, Luka isn't dead."  
  
"Then, where is he? I want to see him."  
  
"He's up in surgery. You can see him when he comes out."  
  
"Then you don't _know_ that he's alive. He could have died ...."  
  
"When I brought him upstairs," Susan said, "he was conscious and stable. There's no reason to think anything's gone wrong. I'm sure he's doing just fine, and the surgeons are doing their best to help him. And you don't have to worry about Brian either. He won't be hurting you or Luka ... or anyone anymore."  
  
"They caught him already?" Abby asked. There was hope and, for the first time, relief in her voice.  
  
"He's dead." Blunt.  
  
"The police killed him?" Amazement, but not shock or disappointment.  
  
"He thoughtfully did the job himself." Susan was a little amazed herself at the harshness in her own voice and words. She should care that a man was dead ... even a man as despicable as Brian Westlake. But, looking at Abby, and remembering what Luka had looked like, she couldn't really care at all. She was just glad that the world was rid of him. "So, don't fret about Brian or about Luka. Let's just check you over."  
  
"I'm not really hurt," Abby said. "Just bruised. And my wrist ... I think I sprained it when I fell ... when he knocked me down."  
  
"Ok. Well, we still need to evaluate you," Susan said.  
  
"Susan," Kerry said softly. "If you've got this, the board's backing up with minors."  
  
"Sure. Go ahead." Susan nodded, and returned her attention to Abby. _Would_ she be able to maintain her professional detachment? It had been hard enough with Luka, but Luka had never been a particularly close friend, and he'd been unconscious during the worst moments of it. But Abby ... God ... Abby was her friend, and she had just lived through every woman's worst nightmare.  
  
Abby was dressed in a robe, tied loosely and carelessly, but she clutched it around her with both hands. Not so tightly though that Susan couldn't see that she was naked beneath it.  
  
"Abby, we need to take this off. As soon as I've checked your breasts and belly, we'll get you a gown, ok?"  
  
Abby bit her lip, then nodded and let her hands fall, then used one of them to wipe at her eyes. And Susan saw the same raw redness on her wrists and arms ... and noticed more of it on her ankles. As her hands brushed against Abby's wrist, she felt a slight stickiness. Duct-tape, she realized. God ... he'd tied her up and gagged her with duct tape. The sick bastard. Her left wrist was rather swollen, and Abby winced as Susan touched it.   
  
Bruises on her breasts and belly, including one rather deep one around the umbilicus. Susan palpated her abdomen gently. "Let me know if I hurt you," she said. Abby just nodded, a few tears still slipping out. Then she winced again as Susan touched the deep bruise. "That's tender?" Susan asked.  
  
"Yeah. He ... put his knee there."   
  
"Ok. We'll check it with the sonosite. There could be some internal bleeding."  
  
"I don't think so. It's just a bad bruise."  
  
"We need to check anyway."  
  
While Haleh helped Abby into a gown, Susan asked gently, "Were you raped, Abby?"  
  
A silent nod.  
  
"Ok. Haleh, can you get a rape kit?"  
  
"Is that necessary?" Abby asked. "I mean ... we know who did it, and if he's dead ..."  
  
"We still need to, I'm sorry. You know that we have to. I'll be as quick about it as I can."   
  
Susan hated doing rape exams. She'd never met a doctor who _didn't_ hate doing them. But this was probably the worst one she had ever done. It was a struggle to keep her own voice calm, keep her own hands from shaking as she did the necessary things, asked the necessary questions. And Abby quietly answered the questions, her own voice deceptively calm despite the tears running down her face. No, she hadn't had intercourse in the previous 72 hours. Yes, there had been vaginal penetration. No ... yes ... no ... about 3 weeks in ... "   
  
And finally, after a very long five minutes, Susan was able to say, "Ok, Abby. That's all done. There's a small contusion at the introitus, but no other local injuries."  
  
A shaky, humorless laugh from Abby. "Well, I wasn't exactly a virgin."  
  
Susan couldn't think of any response to that, besides a brief half-smile and a sigh. She quickly finished the remainder of the physical exam, then said, "Ok. There don't seem to be any serious injuries. Mostly just contusions and scrapes. The cut on your cheek could use a couple of sutures to minimize the scarring as it heals. Your wrist does just appear to be sprained, but I'd like to get an x-ray to rule out a fracture. And, given the bruises on your head and face, a CT would be wise to check for a head injury. You could have a concussion. Is that ok?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"And you'll need antibiotics to cover any possible STDs. Given that you're three weeks into your cycle, pregnancy is unlikely, but not impossible. I'll leave it up to you if you want emergency contraception or not."  
  
"I'm on the pill," Abby said softly.  
  
"Ok then." Susan remembered her promise to Carter. Maybe it was time to let him come in, while they waited for CT to be ready. "It will probably be a few minutes before we can take you up to CT," she started to say.  
  
"Can I see Luka, while I wait?"  
  
"He's not going to be out of surgery for a while. He just went in a few moments before you arrived."  
  
"How ... bad was it?" Susan hesitated. "Please, Susan. Did Brian shoot him?"  
  
"Yes. He was shot twice in the chest, and it's pretty bad. But the bullets missed his heart. We were able to get him stabilized and he should have a very good chance. He was unconscious when he got here, but he woke up while we were working on him." She smiled. "He was very worried about you. I guess Brian told him what he'd done. He was very determined that we knew that you were hurt, so we could get you help."  
  
"_He_ told you?!"   
  
"Yeah. Wouldn't let us take him up to surgery until he had. Which took some time, since he was intubated and unable to talk."  
  
"I thought Carter ... he called me. I couldn't answer the phone, but I heard the machine pick up. I thought he called the police when I didn't answer."  
  
"I guess he did call you. But that was after Luka had told us about you. You know, you can't see Luka right now, but you can see Carter. He's been pretty worried about you too, and I think he'd like to see you. We told him he could come in once we'd finished your exam."  
  
Abby shut her eyes and shook her head quickly. "No. I don't want to see him. Not right now."   
  
"Ok. That's fine." Susan was surprised, but kept her voice calm.  
  
Haleh said, "They're ready for her up in radiology."   
  
"Abby, I'll have Haleh take you up to radiology. While you're there, I'll call up to the OR and see if they know when Luka will be out of surgery. Once he is, you should be able to look in on him for a minute."  
  
"Thanks."   
  
Susan and Haleh together helped Abby into a wheelchair, and Haleh took her upstairs. And Susan leaned against the wall again and took a deep breath. After a minute she headed for the lounge to get herself a cup of coffee. She desperately needed a cup of coffee.  
  
Carter was there drinking his own cup. He jumped to his feet as she came in.  
  
"How's Abby?" he asked anxiously.  
  
"She's going to be fine. Looks like it's just cuts and bruises mostly. She may have a slight concussion and a broken wrist. I just sent her up to CT."  
  
"Was she ... raped?" It was clearly a struggle to get the word out.  
  
"Yeah." Susan poured the coffee.  
  
"Can I see her? You said I could see her as soon as ..."  
  
"She doesn't want to see you. I offered, and she said no."   
  
"She didn't want to see me?" Carter looked stunned. "Why?"  
  
"I didn't ask, and it's none of my business. She doesn't want to see you right now, and that's all that matters."   
  
"She shouldn't have to deal with this alone."  
  
"She's pretty upset. I think she just needs a little time."  
  
"She's upset? You think I'm not upset too? How do you think I feel ...."  
  
Something inside Susan snapped. "_I_ think you need to grow up a little, Carter. I think you need to remember that Abby was the one who was raped here, and her needs are a little more important right now than your feelings."  
  
Susan cut herself off abruptly and took a deep breath, registering the hurt look on Carter's face. "Oh God ... I'm sorry, Carter. I didn't mean that." Carter just looked down at his hands, didn't say anything. "Really, I didn't. This has just been a horrible evening ... for everyone. We're all worried about Luka, and upset about Abby. But Abby is the one who's just been through hell."  
  
"So I'd think she'd want me there ... to help her deal with it."  
  
"Different women deal with this sort of thing differently. Some are going to want support right away from people who care about them. Other women need time to ... process the experience on their own first. I'm sure it's nothing personal, Carter. She just needs some time. Maybe in the morning, or in a couple of days, she'll be ready to talk to you about it, let you comfort her. But right now, she said no. She's my patient, and I'm going to respect that."   
  
"Will you be admitting her?"   
  
"Probably. It will depend on what the CT shows. We'll keep her overnight anyway." Susan finished her coffee. "Now, I need to call up to the OR. I promised Abby I'd let her know how Luka's doing." 


	9. Chapter 9

Susan was waiting for her when Haleh wheeled Abby back into the trauma room after her CT and x-ray.  
  
"So," Susan asked gently. "How are you feeling?"  
  
Abby shrugged. "Ok I guess. Tired."  
  
"I think we all are," Susan said, and smiled. She did look tired, Abby thought. "Ok. Your CT and x-ray were both clear. So I just have to suture that cut. I _would_ like to admit you overnight for observation. You were beaten up pretty thoroughly, and there could be something we missed. Besides, this way we can be sure you get a good night's sleep."  
  
"It's not like I particularly want to go home," Abby assured her. Then another shaky laugh. "Besides, I don't think I can. I think my apartment is still a crime scene."  
  
"When you do leave tomorrow, if you need a place to stay for a few days, you're welcome to stay with me. I have plenty of room."  
  
Abby couldn't imagine _ever_ going back to her apartment ... sleeping in that bed again. She'd have to find a new place, but, in the meantime ... "Thanks Susan. I'd appreciate that. Did you find out about Luka?"  
  
"Yeah. He's still in surgery. They weren't sure how much longer it would be."  
  
"He's ... doing ok?"  
  
"Yes, Abby. He's doing fine. I guess there was a lot of damage. It's going to take some time to repair."  
  
They didn't talk anymore while Susan sutured her cheek, and Haleh cleaned her other cuts and scrapes and wrapped her sore wrist.  
  
"Do you want me to write you something for pain?" Susan asked as she finished up.  
  
"No, I'm fine."  
  
"Ok. I _am_ going to be sure you get a sedative when you get to your room." Abby started to protest, but Susan went on firmly, "You need a good night's sleep."  
  
"First, I'll need a shower," Abby said softly. She felt grimy.  
  
The phone rang, and Haleh picked it up. "Yes ... thanks, I'll tell them." She hung up. "Dr. Kovac is out of surgery."  
  
"Did they say..." Abby asked anxiously.  
  
"No details. Just that he's in recovery."  
  
Abby jumped down from the table, but Susan said, "Into the chair, Abby. I don't think you're up to doing that much walking around yet."  
  
"I'm fine, Susan."  
  
"You're going to ride. Come on, rules are rule. I'll take you up." Abby reluctantly sat back in the wheelchair, and allowed Susan to push her out into the hall.   
  
In the elevator, Susan said, "You'll only be able to stay for a minute, Abby. You know they usually don't allow visitors at all in recovery, and he's not likely to be conscious yet anyway."  
  
"I know. I just ... I need to know that he's alive. See for myself."  
  
"I understand," Susan assured her.  
  
Abby gripped the armrests of the wheelchair nervously, and so tightly that her sore wrist throbbed. She _did_ need to know that he was ok ... that her inability to get help for him hadn't resulted in his death. And too, it was easier to think about Luka, worry about Luka, than to think about what had happened to her. She would think about that another time.  
  
At the entrance to recovery, Susan stopped the chair "Wait here a second, Abby," she told her, and disappeared through the door. Abby strained to see through the glass. She could see Susan talking to the nurse, but couldn't tell which of the several patients was Luka. From this angle, she couldn't see much of anything.   
  
After a moment, Susan came back out. "Ok, Abby. Just for a minute," and wheeled her inside.   
  
Luka. He lay very still on the bed. He was very white, and white bandages swathed his chest. A tube still ran from a ventilator, into his mouth and down his throat.  
  
"Shouldn't he have been extubated by now?" she asked.  
  
"He's starting to breath on his own," the nurse explained. "But we want to keep him intubated until he's conscious and breathing better. They'll probably extubate sometime tomorrow in the SICU."  
  
"He'll be ok?" Abby didn't miss the fact that he was going to be moved to the surgical ICU after leaving here. Which meant that he was still very sick.  
  
He's doing very well," the nurse assured her.  
  
Which Abby knew was a non-answer, but she also knew that the nurse couldn't really give her any information. That was the doctor's job and there was no sign of Anspaugh. Looking at the monitor, Abby was reassured to see a strong heartbeat, though her experienced eye could tell that it was a bit irregular still.   
  
"You can talk to him," the nurse said gently. "He's not really awake yet, but he may be able to hear you."  
  
Abby touched Luka's hand. He didn't stir. "Luka ... it's Abby. I know you've been worried about me. You don't have to be ... I'm ok."  
  
No response from Luka, just the quiet hum of the ventilator and the beeping of the monitors.  
  
"Ok," said the nurse. "You need to go now. He needs to rest."  
  
"And so do you," Susan reminded her.  
  
Abby leaned back in the chair, and allowed Susan to push her back out into the hall and to the elevators.  
  
-------  
  
Susan dropped Abby in her room, leaving her in the care of the floor nurse. "I need to get back to work," she told her. "I'll stop by and see you in the morning before I leave, ok?"  
  
"Yeah. Thanks Susan." Abby hesitated. "It really helped ... being cared for by a friend ... someone who _does_ care about me."  
  
Susan could only smile again, and left her alone with the nurse.   
  
A shower. Abby desperately needed a shower. She knew enough to know that it was psychological. She wasn't _really_ that dirty ... but knowing that didn't make the need any less real.   
  
The nurse helped Abby into the shower, and she stayed there as long as she could, letting the hot water just flow over her, washing away some of the horrors of her evening. After perhaps half an hour, the nurse returned to help her dry off, dress and get into bed. A quick check of her vital signs, the sleeping pill, which Abby swallowed reluctantly, then she was left alone to sleep.  
  
Abby was just drifting off, her back to the door, when there was a tap on the door, and a familiar voice saying her name.   
  
"Aren't you working, Carter?" Abby asked softly, not turning to look at him.  
  
"I'm on a break."  
  
"It's after visiting hours."   
  
"I know. I just needed to see you for a minute." She heard him take another step into the room.  
  
"So you've seen me. Good night, John."  
  
"Abby ..." She could hear the pain in his voice.  
  
"Not right now." Quiet. Measured.  
  
"When?"  
  
"I don't know." Carter didn't answer, but she knew he was still there. "Shall I ring for the nurse and have her throw you out?"  
  
"No. I'm going. Good-night, Abby."  
  
Abby heard his footsteps leave the room, heard the door shut. Then she cried herself to sleep.  
  



	10. Chapter 10

Abby rolled over and opened her eyes. For a moment she was confused. She felt like hell, and this wasn't her bed, or John's bed. For a fleeting instant she thought she might be hung-over ... had she gone home with someone else? No, even in her worst days with the bottle, she'd never done that.   
  
She was in the hospital. It was ironic, she thought. She'd been working in hospitals for years, but this was the first time she'd ever been a patient in one. She'd been treated in the ER, but never admitted as an inpatient before. If she _had_ to be a patient, this wouldn't have been her first choice of diagnoses. A nice clean MVA, or maybe a case of pneumonia, but not this.   
  
"Good morning, Miss Lockhart." The day-shift nurse bustled into the room cheerfully. No, not Betsy. Of all the nurses she had to end up with, why Betsy Mills? She knew Betsy from her OB days. She should have _stayed_ in the newborn nursery, the babies didn't mind her unbearable chirpiness. Betsy, evidently, didn't recognize her, maybe because she was out of context. She continued to chatter away brightly, asking questions and not waiting for Abby to answer them; taking her vital signs, commisserating with her about her 'dreadful experience,' and generally being a pain in the ass.   
  
It was a relief when Betsy finally left. Abby got slowly out of bed. She was stiff and sore but, all things considered, she thought, not too bad. Some might even say that she was lucky. She was alive, not badly injured. She would get over this. Women survived worse every day. She was luckier, certainly, than Luka. So why didn't she feel lucky?  
  
"You shouldn't be up." Abby turned to see Susan standing in the doorway.  
  
"I'm fine, Susan."  
  
"Still, a nurse should be here for your first time out of bed."  
  
"I am a nurse. And I had a nurse. Trust me, I'm better off without her."  
  
"You had a good night?" Susan picked up her chart and looked at it.  
  
"I slept." Did Susan expect more than that? "Is that offer of a place to stay still open?"  
  
"Absolutely. I wouldn't have offered if I hadn't meant it."  
  
"I'm just not ready to go home ... I mean, I'm dying to get out of here, but I don't want to go back there." Abby shook her head.  
  
"I understand. You can stay with me as long as you need to." Susan looked at her watch. "Look, I just got off. You aren't going to be discharged for a few hours yet. I'll go home, catch a few hours sleep, then come back around noon to get you. Is that ok?"  
  
"Yeah. And could you bring me something to wear?" Abby laughed a little. "I don't even have any clothes."  
  
"Sure. I can loan you something to wear home. Maybe we can stop by your place on the way home and pick up a few more things." Abby shut her eyes and Susan said gently, "If you don't want to go inside, I can get them for you. I mean, I'm happy to lend you clothes, but we're not the same size."  
  
"Yeah, that's fine."   
  
"I'll see you in a few hours then," Susan said, and went out, shutting the door behind her.  
  
Abby got back into bed and turned on the tv, and a moment later there was another knock on the door. "God ... what is this, Grand Central Station?" Abby muttered. Then more loudly, "Come in."  
  
It was Carter. He stood in the doorway for a moment. "It's ok if I come in?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Carter came in. He started to sit on the bed beside her, then seemed to change his mind and took the chair.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"I'll live, or so I'm told."  
  
Carter looked at his hands, rubbed his thumb along a crease in his pant leg. "Abby ... I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be saying here. I want to help, but I don't know how. I don't know what you want from me right now."  
  
"I don't want anything from you. This isn't about you. I just need a little time." She didn't look at him. She couldn't. And he didn't look at her either.   
  
"If you need some place to stay for a while ..."  
  
"I'm staying with Susan," Abby said quickly.   
  
"We've got about 50 guest rooms, Abby."  
  
"I'd rather stay with Susan. Have you been to see Luka yet?"  
  
"Not yet. I was going to stop by after I saw you."  
  
"Well ... maybe you should go then. You don't want to keep him waiting."   
  
"Abby ... if I could change what happened ..."  
  
"Well, you can't. I'm not blaming you, Carter. I'm just ... hurting right now. And I need to hurt by myself."  
  
"You shouldn't _have_ to hurt by yourself."  
  
"I know that you're a doctor, and you're used to being able to fix people's pain, but there are some types of pain that even you can't fix." Not, she thought, with your medical skills, and certainly not with your fifty fucking guest rooms. "Now, I think you should go."  
  
"Are you being discharged today?"  
  
"Yeah. I think so."  
  
"Can I call you at Susan's?"  
  
"I'll probably be back at work in a few days. You'll see me at work."  
  
Carter rose, stood for a moment, then abruptly sat on the bed. "Abby, please. Don't shut me out."  
  
Abby finally looked at him. And the pain in his face broke through her own pain, just a little. "I don't mean to. I don't want to." She shook her head helplessly.   
  
Carter seemed to take that as an invitation. He slid closer to her and put his arms around her. An embrace that felt so much like a violation that it was all Abby could do to not scream -- the scream she hadn't been able to give vent to last night. But she endured it, trembling a little, until Carter seemed to finally realize that she wasn't hugging him back. He released her and, after a moment, stood up again. He didn't say anything more, and neither did she. There was nothing more to say. He left the room.  
  
If he could have said, "I love you, Abby," maybe it would have helped."I love you, and we'll get through this together." But he wasn't going to say it, because he didn't. They both knew he didn't. He cared for her. He was fond of her. He hurt for her. But he didn't love her. And without love, they _wouldn't _get through it together. _She _would get through it, but not with him. And after she'd gotten through it ... they'd have to see where they stood.   
  
She had lied to him. She _did_ blame him. She knew it wasn't really his fault, but if he had walked her home ....   
  
Abby lay back on the pillow, she felt tears stinging at her eyes and wiped them away impatiently. She had cried enough. And if Betsy came in when she was crying ... God ... if she thought last night had been hell, the thought of Betsy deciding to comfort her would be the ninth circle.  
  
-----  
  
She was just finishing breakfast when there was another knock on the door. How did patients get any rest around here? Half the ER staff had already been up to see her, for visits that had been, thankfully, brief and cheerful. They were all people she was comfortable with. The police had also stopped by. This visit had been far less comfortable, but it had also been brief. With Brian dead, there wasn't a lot of information about the case that needed to be given. It wasn't as if there was going to be a trial.   
  
"Come in." The door opened and Ralene came in.  
  
"Oh Abby ... I was so ... I don't know what to say ..."  
  
"I'm ok, Ralene. It was awful, but I'm ok now."  
  
"I just feel like I should have heard something ... done something."  
  
"He was pretty quiet. You wouldn't have heard anything."  
  
"Is there anything I can do for you?"  
  
"No, everything's fine now," Abby said, then she realized that there _was_ something. "Actually, you can do me a favor."  
  
"Sure. Anything."  
  
"I need some clothes. I just had my robe when I came in last night, and I'm being discharged today. Could you bring me some clothes? You still have my key, right?"  
  
"Yeah. Anything special you want?"  
  
"Lots of clothes. There's a big suitcase in the bedroom closet. Just fill it up. Slacks, shirts, underwear, nighties. Some nursing scrubs. My toothbrush and stuff from the bathroom. My jacket. And my purse."  
  
"How long are you going to be here?" Ralene asked, puzzled.  
  
"Here, just this morning. But I ... I'm not sure when I'll be back to the apartment."  
  
"They said ... on the late news last night ... he's dead. Right?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm not worried about him coming back. I'm just ... I'll be staying with friends for a while." Abby didn't feel like trying to explain.  
  
"Ok. When do you need it?"  
  
"I'll probably be leaving around noon, so if you can bring it this morning, that would be great."  
  
"Sure, no problem."  
  
"Thanks, Ralene. This will be a big help." A huge help. She wouldn't have to go back there for a very long time. Maybe not ever. 


	11. Chapter 11

[For all who have been waiting so patiently for the story to return to Luka ... you get your wish. (Give him a break, the guy was just shot. I had to allow him a _little_ time to recover before putting the story back on his shoulders, right?)]

-----------------

He had been trying to wake up for a very long time. Or, rather, _they_ had been trying to wake him up.  
  
Luka didn't want to wake up. He liked being where he was. Oblivion was pleasant; warm, gentle, comfortable.  
  
But people kept talking to him, calling his name, encouraging him to open his eyes. So he would try. They were asking so nicely, he _did_ want to please them. So he would climb a little ways out of the nothingness, but there was always pain there waiting for him. He didn't like the pain. He didn't understand it, and it frightened him. He would hear himself whimper, sometimes mutter something in Croatian, though even he wasn't quite sure what he was saying, and then he'd slip back down again into the darkness. Oblivion was better. There was no pain there.  
  
But now he had to wake up. They were talking to him again, calling his name. He'd been sleeping for such a long time, he knew. He had to go to work, he was going to be late for work. He didn't feel well, his chest hurt ... but he should at least get up, call in ... tell them he was sick. He _was_ sick ... it was so hard to open his eyes. How long had he been sick? He couldn't remember. "Have to go to work ..." he heard himself mutter.  
  
"Luka? Come on Luka, try to open your eyes." A beautiful voice. He opened his eyes. They were so heavy, and everything was blurry. Where was he?  
  
_'When_ _you_ _get_ _to_ _heaven_ -- _or_ _hell_ -- _if_ _she's_ _there_, _you'll_ _have_ _your_ _answer_.'

He was dead. And Abby was dead. So much pain ... this must be hell. Heaven was beautiful, with no pain. Wasn't it? But no ... if Abby was here it couldn't be hell. _He_ might deserve to be in hell, but never Abby.   
  
_'Shall_ _I_ _tell_ _you_ _how_ _I_ _touched_ _her_?' A gun ... agony as the bullet struck his chest ... and then an endless time of pain and nothingness and still more pain and things happening to him that he could never seem to wake up enough to understand.  
  
His vision was a little clearer now, and his other senses too. The pain was still there, a tearing in his chest with every breath. He wanted to cough, but he knew, somehow, that coughing would make the pain worse. As he came more awake, he found that he could handle the pain, push it aside a little. He didn't have to run away from it any more. He'd always been good about pain. He could focus on other things now. He was lying in a bed, but not his own familiar bed. Someone else's? No, it was a hospital bed. He became aware of tubes and wires; IVs, oxygen, monitor leads, drains; some he couldn't think what they were. He knew he _should_ know ... he was a doctor, wasn't he? But it was just too hard right now. His chest hurt, he was nauseous, and he was very thirsty, and still so very tired.  
  
But none of that mattered very much, because mostly, he was aware of Abby. She was sitting beside his bed, and her hand, small and warm, was holding onto his. And he realized that he was squeezing her hand very hard. The pain. He was reacting to the pain. Luka forced his hand to relax. He didn't want to hurt her.  
  
But Brian ... God ... Brian had hurt her. Hadn't he? He blinked, trying to clear his vision a little more. Her face looked strange. As beautiful as always, but different. There was a Band-Aid on her cheek, the area around her eyes was discolored and a bit swollen.   
  
She was still talking to him. "Luka? Can you hear me?" He knew he should answer. She looked so worried. He didn't want her to worry.  
  
"Abby." His voice was very hoarse. "Could I have some water?" He was very thirsty, every word hurt his parched throat, but he tried to make his voice sound normal, so she wouldn't have to worry so much.  
  
"Not yet. Maybe in a little while. The doctor has to say it's ok first." The worried look had given way to a smile, but tears were brightening he eyes now. Had he hurt her hand?   
  
"Sorry ..."  
  
A wider smile. She was so beautiful. "What for?"  
  
"Hurt ... your hand?"  
  
"No, you didn't. It's fine." Abby pulled her hand from his ... God ... he didn't want her to do that ... and wiggled her fingers. "See? No harm done."  
  
"Hurts."  
  
"I know. You'll start to feel better soon. Do you remember ... why you're here?"  
  
Luka nodded. "Shot." He would never forget that.  
  
"That's right. And you had surgery. They had to open your chest. It's going to hurt for a while."  
  
"What day is it?" How long had it been? It could have been only hours, Luka thought, or maybe it had been weeks? But no, if it had been weeks, the pain would surely be better by now.  
  
"It's Saturday. It's just been a couple of days. It was Wednesday when ... it happened. It's Saturday morning now."  
  
"Been ... sleeping?" He wanted to sleep again, but he also wanted to keep looking at Abby, listening to her voice. This was better than oblivion.   
  
"Mostly. You've been drifting, half-awake off and on."  
  
"Don't remember much."  
  
"Morphine has that effect on people," Abby said cheerfully.   
  
For a minute she just smiled at him. And then Luka remembered. How could he have _not _remembered? Brian had hurt her. He knew that. Brian had told him he'd hurt her. He'd touched her. And there had been no doubt in Luka's mind what he had meant. Luka searched her face. There were bruises. A scabbed-over scrape on her forehead. He'd been thinking only of himself, his own pain. And Abby ...  
  
"He hurt you?" Luka reached his hand towards her battered face, but he was too weak and after a moment his arm fell back to the bed.  
  
"I'm ok," Abby said gently. She took his hand again.  
  
"Your face. He ... did that?"  
  
A nod. "Yeah, but it will heal. I'm not really hurt, Luka. He didn't really hurt me."  
  
"He said ..."  
  
"I know," Abby said quickly. "I know what he said. But I'm ok. He ... knocked me around a little. You don't have to worry about me. You just focus on getting well."  
  
Luka let his eyes close. God ... he was so tired. But Abby _was_ ok. Brian had lied. He'd just been trying to hurt him, making him believe he'd done something horrible to her. And Luka remembered, just a little, lying in the ER. Susan and Carter had been there, and he'd been trying to tell them, make them understand ... He had been so afraid. Had he be able to tell them? He couldn't remember that part. Maybe when he wasn't so tired ...  
  
"I'm glad," Luka murmured faintly. "I thought ..."  
  
"I know," Abby said again. "But everything is ok." Luka felt something soft and warm; it might have been angel's wings, brush against his forehead. "Do you want me to ring for the nurse? See if you can have some ice chips?"

"Later ..." Luka said. And he slept again.


	12. Chapter 12

Abby made a face as she spit the toothpaste into the sink. She would never get used to Susan's choice of brands. Funny how a little thing like toothpaste could make such a difference to your morning. She would _have_ to remember to stop at the store later and buy a tube of Crest. Her own tube was still sitting in her bathroom. And it could stay there forever, as far as she was concerned.   
  
"You're up early." A cheerful voice at the bathroom door.   
  
"Shift starts at seven, like always."  
  
"You're going in?" Susan sounded surprised.  
  
"Why shouldn't I? I feel fine."  
  
"I still think it might be smart to take a few more days off."  
  
"Why? To sit in your living room and watch tv all day?"  
  
"I just don't want you to push yourself."  
  
"My wrist's a little sore yet, but other than that, I feel fine." Abby looked in the mirror for a moment. "Unless you think I'll scare the patients." Her face looked much better, but it was going to take more than 4 days for the bruises and swelling to disappear completely. "I'd rather stay busy," she explained quietly, and Susan nodded.  
  
"Well, if I can grab a quick shower, I'll drive you in. I'm back on days."  
  
-----  
  
Over cornflakes, Abby said, "I think they're moving Luka out of the ICU today."  
  
"That's good. Now maybe us common folk will be able to visit him." Visitation in the SICU was usually very restricted, with non-relatives not usually permitted to visit at all, and visits by relatives pretty limited as well. But, since Luka had no family here, the staff had looked the other way about Abby's visits. She had, in fact, spent most of the previous 4 days, since being discharged herself, camped out at Luka's bedside. He'd been sleeping most of the time, but Abby didn't really mind just watching him sleep. When he was awake, he seemed to like her company as well, though he wasn't yet capable, even then, of much conversation. Still, he was improving steadily.  
  
"Yeah. I'm sure he'll appreciate more visits." Abby got up to put her bowl in the sink. "So, you're back on days," she said casually. "Is Carter?"  
  
"No, not for another week, I think. Makes things tough, hmmm?"  
  
"Yeah," Abby lied.   
  
------  
  
At work, Abby threw herself into 'staying busy.' There were plenty of patients, so that wasn't hard to do. Most of the patients were even polite enough to not stare at her black eyes.  
  
By around 11, things had slowed down a little. "I'm taking a break," Abby told Lydia. "Keep an eye on the kid in 2, would you?"  
  
"Sure. And say hi to Dr. Kovac for me," Lydia said with a smile.  
  
At the door to the ICU, the nurse said, "Good morning, Abby. Try 3 West."  
  
"They moved him already? I thought he was going to stay until late this afternoon."  
  
"He's doing well and we needed the bed."   
  
3 West. Luka was sitting up in bed, looking at a newspaper. He looked, Abby thought, much better than he had yesterday. Or maybe it was just the change in setting. People just seemed so much sicker in the ICU. Of course, maybe it was because people _were_ so much sicker in the ICU. He smiled when he saw Abby and folded the paper.  
  
"Where have you been?" he asked.  
  
"I told you I was working today. I didn't ge a break until now."  
  
Luka nodded, "Oh yeah. I forgot." But his smile wavered a little, and Abby was sure he hadn't remembered her telling him. He was still pretty foggy from the drugs. "Do you feel up to it?"  
  
"Sure. I feel fine. It's a little awkward with the sore wrist, but I'm managing."  
  
"I miss you."  
  
"I'm flattered."   
  
"Now that I'm actually awake most of the time," Luka explained, "this 'patient' business is proving to be very dull."  
  
"Enjoy it while you can. Vegging in front of the tv, being bathed by beautiful nurses. Life could be worse than that."   
  
"Ha. My nurse this morning has a tattoo."   
  
"So. I have a tattoo."  
  
"On your bicep? The name Dorothy in two inch letters?"  
  
"Oh."   
  
"And he's taller than I am ... goes by the name of Jorge."   
  
"Too bad." Abby smiled back at him. It was good to see Luka so cheerful.  
  
"Don't suppose they could float you up here for a while. I've got some pull around here. Maybe I can arrange something ..." Still smiling, but a little wistful.  
  
"Ha."  
  
"Hey, a guy can dream, can't he?"  
  
"Keep dreaming," Abby said brightly.   
  
Luka's smile suddenly faded, and he shut his eyes. Abby saw his hand clench into a fist. "Are you ok?" she asked quickly.  
  
Luka opened his eyes again and managed a new smile, but it wasn't a very convincing one. "You mean, besides the 10 inch incision in my chest?"  
  
"Hurting?"   
  
"A little. I'm mostly just tired."   
  
"So, maybe you should be resting instead of reading the paper?"  
  
"I wasn't reading it. I was trying, but wasn't having much luck." A bit of a sigh. "But you're right, I should be resting. They tell me I'm getting out of bed this afternoon. I'm not looking forward to it."   
  
"It will be easier than you think," Abby assured him. "But right now you _should_ be resting. I need to get back to work." She kissed him lightly on the forehead. "I'll be back after my shift."  
  
"Yeah." His voice was suddenly a little husky. He was tired, Abby thought. She kicked herself a little. She shouldn't have encouraged him to talk for so long.  
  
----------  
  
The rest of the morning flew by, as Abby flew from room to room. No major traumas, but a steady flow of patients ensured that Abby didn't have time to rest. Didn't have time for lunch. And didn't have time to think about herself.  
  
At around 1, Abby turned from changing a patient's IV bag to see Carter standing in the doorway watching her.  
  
"How are you doing, Abby?" he asked.  
  
"I'm fine. Back at work, as you can see. I thought you weren't on until tonight."  
  
"I'm not. I just thought ... maybe you'd like to get lunch or something."  
  
"I'm awfully, busy, Carter."  
  
"Can't you spare time for a cup of coffee?" Abby shut her eyes, turned away from him. "Come on Abby, please. I've hardly seen you since ... " A hesitation and he corrected himself. "I've hardly seen you in weeks."  
  
Abby looked at her watch. "Ok. I guess I can manage a quick break."  
  
Carter selected a booth in the back corner of Doc Magoo's. Abby ordered coffee.  
  
"You haven't had lunch yet, have you?" Carter asked.  
  
"I thought we were just getting coffee."  
  
"You need to eat lunch."  
  
"I'm not hungry." Abby handed her menu to the waitress. "Just coffee," she confirmed. She _was_ hungry, but somehow the idea of doing what Carter asked of her bothered her more than the slightly growling her stomach.   
  
After the waitress left, there was a long silence.   
  
"So ... how are you doing?" Carter finally asked.  
  
"You already asked me that. I'm doing fine."  
  
"Sleeping ok?"  
  
"Susan's couch is pretty comfortable. It's a pull-out."  
  
"That isn't what I meant."  
  
"I know what you meant." Why was it still so hard to look at him?  
  
"Are you angry with me, Abby?"  
  
"No, I'm not angry."  
  
"So what's wrong?"  
  
"Use your imagination."   
  
"I know that you went through something ... horrible. But I'm here, Abby. I'm here to help you get through it ... if you'll let me."  
  
"You're here?" Abby finally looked at him. "That's fine. But where the hell were you Wednesday night?"  
  
"You didn't want me there." Carter sounded baffled. "Susan said ..."  
  
"You didn't believe me! I told you there was someone there, and you blew me off ... told me I was imagining it!"  
  
"And I'm sorry. I wish I could have done things differently. Do you think I don't feel absolutely _terrible_ about what happened?"  
  
Abby just looked at Carter for a minute. "_You_ feel terrible about it? Well, isn't that just sweet of you, John. I was _raped_! Luka damn near _died_, but that's all supposed to be, somehow, ok because _you_ feel terrible about it. Well ... you know something? I feel pretty terrible about it too. And I'm sure that Luka, having just had his chest split open, isn't feeling exactly peachy about it either." Just then the waitress came with their coffees, and Abby fell silent, pressing her lips together, until they were alone again.   
  
"I'm sorry, John, but it's going to take me just a little time to get over this, and until I do, I don't give a rat's ass about how terrible you feel." She shut her eyes for a moment and took a breath. When she opened them, Carter was just looking at her, obviously unable to think of anything more to say. For which Abby was grateful. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Dr. Carter, I have patients to take care of." She pulled two dollars from her pocket and threw them on the table, then walked out. 


	13. Chapter 13

Luka pushed his dinner tray away and picked up the remote. Not that he expected to find anything worth watching. Hospitalization was definitely beginning to grate. He'd been here barely a week, and was more than ready to go home. Or, he would be more than ready if his body would hurry up and heal. "Maybe Monday," Donald had said that morning. "That's a good target to aim for, anyway." Five more days.

Of course, going home would only solve half the problem. What he really wanted was to be able to go back to work, and _that_ was, he knew, a lot more than five days away. Five weeks ... if he was lucky. Until he went back to work, though, there would be little to occupy his mind. Little to distract him from the memories of what had happened. He'd keep seeing, in his memory, the glint of light on the gun; feeling his blood on his hand … and hearing Brian say softly, "Shall I tell you how she screamed?" Not that any of this _should_ bother him so much. He _was_ getting well, slowly but surely. And, most important, Abby was getting well too. She hadn't been badly hurt. Her bruises were fading, her stitches had come out yesterday. She was always cheerful, always ready to distract him from his own pain, his own problems. Abby's bruises were fading, but Luka still winced every time he saw his own chest, the staples holding the incision closed. This too would heal, he knew, but there would always be a scar there to remind him of what had happened.

Abby would be here soon. The days were long and dull, Abby was working again, so only stopped by briefly on her breaks. And, besides Abby, he'd had only a few other visitors. Short, dutiful visits opening with "You're looking well," and closing with "Well, I don't want to tire you too much, Luka, so I'd better be going," and not much in between. Luka slept as much as he could, to make the time go faster.

But Abby came by every evening after work, and stayed until visiting hours ended and the floor nurse threw her out. Abby didn't talk much either, truth be told, and he still wasn't really up to long conversations -- they _did_ tire him. But just having her here was nice. They didn't have to talk.

A tap on the door. That was odd, Abby never bothered to knock. She knew he was expecting her.

"Come in."

The door opened. It was Carter. Luka was surprised. Most people from the ER had come by, if only for that required visit, but he hadn't yet seen Carter.

"I wondered if you were ever going to visit," Luka said cheerfully.

"I did come by a few times those first two or three days. You were, unfortunately, asleep at the time."

"Sure, sure ... and you have proof of this?"

"Ask the nurses." Carter smiled and sat down in the chair. For a moment there was silence.

Luka knew that Carter had been on duty when he'd been brought in. His memories of that time were still scant and hazy, but he remembered Carter looking down at him, remembered the fear on his face. He should thank him, he thought ... but would Carter want thanks? He'd been, after all, just doing his job.

"How are you feeling?" Carter finally asked.

"Better than yesterday ... not so good as tomorrow."

"In other words, like crap, right?"

"Yeah. I definitely prefer being the doctor, not the patient."

"There are some days when being the doctor isn't much fun either." Carter looked away, but not before Luka saw a flicker of pain in his eyes.

"I've had a few of those too." It must have been horrible for Carter, Luka knew. But he didn't really want to talk about that right now. He tried to think of something else to say. "Donald says I'll be going home early next week."

"Will you be able to manage at home?" Carter sounded surprised. And Luka realized he hadn't really thought about that part. How _would_ he manage at home? It was going to be a few weeks before he would be anywhere near 'well.' He'd have to hire someone, he thought.

But before he could think of how to answer Carter, a familiar voice came from the doorway, "Sorry I'm late." And suddenly there was a tension in the air, and a momentary silence that seemed to last forever.

"It's ok," Luka said, breaking the silence. "Carter stopped by. He's been keeping me company."

"Hi, Carter," Abby said, and the tension was clear in her voice.

"Abby."

"Look ..." Abby said, still standing in the doorway. "If you two want to talk some more, I'll run and get myself some dinner. I'll come back ..."

"No," interrupted Luka. "Come on in. You're welcome to finish _my_ dinner." Carter had risen from the chair.

"I was actually just about to leave myself. I'd just stopped by for a minute. I'm already late for work." He turned back to Luka. "I'll drop by again soon; we'll have time to talk some more."

"Sure," Luka said.

"I'll see you later," Carter said to Abby, rather stiffly, Luka thought.

"Yeah," Abby replied, and sat down in the chair Carter had just vacated. And there was silence until Carter had left, closing the door behind him.


	14. Chapter 14

Luka watched the door close behind Carter, then returned his attention to Abby. She was looking out the window.  
  
"Should I ask?" Luka asked quietly.  
  
"No, you shouldn't." Also very quiet.  
  
"Maybe you shouldn't be spending so much time here," Luka began.  
  
"What do you mean?" Abby sounded hurt.  
  
"I enjoy your company, but if it's making Carter jealous, or causing problems ..."  
  
"He isn't jealous."  
  
"I don't want to come between you." Luka meant it. He wanted Abby, desperately, but not at Carter's expense.  
  
"You're not," Abby finally explained. "Things are ... complicated right now, but it has nothing to do with you."  
  
"He's not being supportive? I know it can be hard ... when people we care about are hurt. It's sometimes hard to know what to say."  
  
"I really _don't_ want to talk about Carter right now. I don't want to talk about this at all." Abby sounded annoyed for the first time all week.  
  
"Ok. I'm sorry." There was silence for a moment. Luka pushed his barely touched dinner tray towards her. "Do you want some of this?"  
  
"Trying to poison me?"  
  
"No. It tastes ok. I'm just not very hungry. But the nurse will be pissed if she comes back and finds I haven't eaten. So you can help me fool her, ok?"  
  
"I'll do anything to fool the nurses," Abby said. She sat on the bed beside him and picked up the fork. After a bite she made a face. "Almost anything," she corrected herself. "God ... how do you eat this?"  
  
"I don't." They smiled at each other. It was so easy to smile when Abby was around. "How was work?"  
  
"Same old stuff. Pretty quiet today, no big traumas or anything. I'm off tomorrow." A sigh. "I need to spend the day looking for an apartment, I think. I can't mooch off Susan much longer."  
  
"You can't go home yet?" Luka was puzzled.  
  
"I can't go home. I can't go back there."  
  
"He's not going to bother you any more," Luka reminded her gently.  
  
"I know. And I know it's stupid and illogical ... but I don't want to live there anymore."  
  
"Ok." There was really nothing more to say to that.  
  
"I'll still find the time to visit you tomorrow, so you don't have to worry about that."  
  
"I'm not. But if you're worried about imposing on Susan, couldn't you stay with Carter? He's got plenty of..."  
  
_"No!_. I can_not_ stay with Carter. Not right now. I just need a new place, that's all." The irritation again.  
  
Luka nodded. It was never easy talking about Carter with Abby, or about Abby with Carter, but this reaction surprised him. Something was going on, but if she didn't want to talk about it, he wasn't going to push her.  
  
"I ummm... I think it will be ok for me when I go home. I wasn't _in_ the apartment, you know. It happened outside ... in the hall. I guess it would be different if you were inside."  
  
"Yeah. I was. We were."  
  
"It was funny. I wasn't really scared. I don't remember being scared. It happened so fast. I just stepped out into the hall ... and then I was sitting on the floor, bleeding. I remember being confused ... I didn't recognize him, so I couldn't figure out why he had done this. I mean ... even in Chicago strangers don't usually walk up to you and shoot you for no reason. Then, once he told me ... once I realized who he was ... I couldn't be scared, because I was worried about you." Talking was hard. It still made Luka's chest hurt, but once he'd started, it would have been harder to stop. He'd never been able to talk about it before. Sometimes pain was worth it.

"He told me he'd ... done things to you ..." Abby shut her eyes quickly and turned her head away a little. "All I could think was that I had to get help for you. I couldn't die because I had to tell someone. I was just focused on ... not dying ... trying to not die. It _is_ hard when people we ... care about ... are hurt. I hated that I couldn't help you. _That_ was the hardest part. Not ... dying. Not knowing that I was going to die. But knowing that you might die too. And I couldn't do anything to change it."  
  
"But you did help me," Abby said gently, finally looking at him again. "Susan said you told them about me, made sure help came."  
  
"Did I?" Luka was relieved. "That part's still so hazy. I wasn't sure."  
  
"You did." A pause and a momentary smile. "I was worried about you too. He told me he was going to go to your place, he was going to kill you. And I also hated knowing that I couldn't help you. He tied me up before he left, so I couldn't get help, call for help. Not for you, or for me." Another little smile. "But _I_ was scared. For you and for me. I don't think I've ever been so scared. He told me ..." Abby trailed off.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing." Abby looked out the window again.  
  
"Well ... we don't have to be scared anymore, right? We're both going to be ok. It could have been a lot worse."  
  
A bit of a laugh. "This coming from a man who just had two bullets taken out of his chest?"  
  
"I'm alive. It _could_ have been a lot worse."  
  
"That's true." Abby took another bite of the pot roast. "I swear this is horse meat," she grumbled.  
  
"I was thinking it was cat myself." Luka smiled at her again. As good as it had felt to talk about "it," it really was so much easier to talk about the inconsequential.  
  
"Did Anspaugh have any good words for you today?" asked Abby after a minute.  
  
"Depends on your definition, I guess. He thinks I'll be able to go home early next week."  
  
"That's good."  
  
"Yeah, I'll be glad to get out of here." Luka remembered his earlier thoughts when Carter had been here. "I'll probably need to arrange for some help for a while though. I don't think I'll be up to managing alone for a couple of weeks yet."  
  
"Yeah," Abby agreed. "It's hard for patients who live alone ... have no-one to help them."  
  
"Will you come and visit me at home?"  
  
"Of course I will!" Then Abby suddenly looked thoughtful. "Look ... how would it be if I stayed with you for a while?"  
  
"In my apartment?"  
  
"Yeah. You'll probably need to hire a nurse. Well, _I'm_ a nurse. I can give you the help you need."  
  
"You need to work."  
  
"I have some vacation time. It would solve both our problems, wouldn't it. I would have a place to stay, and I wouldn't be imposing, because I'd be helping you."  
  
"It's a bad idea," Luka said gently. " For one thing, Carter _definitely_ isn't going to like it."  
  
"Carter can take a flying leap." Abby snapped, then cut herself off abruptly. Then more slowly. "It's over, Luka; me and Carter. It's been over for a long time. I think we both knew that the patient was dead, but neither of us wanted to call it. It was easier to just pretend that everything was fine. Easier to keep going through the motions."  
  
"You're going through a rough time. That can be hard on any relationship."  
  
"No. It's more than that. I blame him for what happened ... to me, and to you. I was scared, I knew someone had been following me ... and he didn't care enough to believe me. Brian was obviously just waiting for the day when I _would_ be alone, and he could ..." Abby shook her head.  
  
"And now ... I _should_ want Carter around, want his support. He offers, but I just can't stand to be around him. That says to me, pretty clearly, that there's nothing for us anymore. The relationship was a mistake from the beginning. I just don't know why neither of us saw it then. We were good as friends, and we should have left it there. He's not a bad person, Luka. But now ... I don't even know if we'll be able to be friends again."  
  
"Unlike some other people I could name?" Luka asked lightly.  
  
"Yeah." Abby smiled at him again. "So, how about it? I'd sleep on the couch, Luka. I'm not ... running into your arms or anything. I just want to help out if I can. I couldn't help you ... before ... but now I can. And you can help me a little. I _do_ need a place to stay."  
  
"I think you should at least try to go home. See how it goes. Maybe it won't be as bad as you think."  
  
_"__No!"_ Abby said again firmly. "I told you, I can't go back there. Not ever. I can't live there ... I can't ... sleep there. Maybe some people can ... I can't." Abby was crying now.  
  
"Abby?" Luka said very gently. "What happened that night?"  
  
"Nothing. Nothing much anyway. He knocked me around ... then tied me up so I couldn't get help. Just ... just some bruises ... and my wrist." She tried to smile again but couldn't quite mange it. "You're the one who got shot ... who almost died." Her voice was shaking, and she wasn't looking at him.  
  
Luka touched her face, where the bruises still remained. He wiped away a few of the tears. "He did ... rape you, didn't he?" Abby didn't answer, but pushed away his hand a little impatiently. "Abby?"  
  
Abby still didn't look at him, but after a moment she nodded. "Yeah."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me before?"  
  
"I don't know. It wouldn't change anything ... and I didn't want to hurt you. I knew it would hurt you." A fresh wave of tears, and Abby couldn't talk anymore.  
  
Instinctively, Luka reached for her, to comfort her. As his arm went around her, he felt her stiffen for a moment, and he cursed himself. Of course she'd be uneasy about being touched right now. Holding his hand was one thing, but an embrace must be difficult for her. But then he felt her relax, and she let him pull her head gently down onto his shoulder. And it was Luka's turn to stiffen, and he couldn't help gasping as her weight sent a stab of pain through his chest.  
  
"Sorry," Abby said quickly, and started to pull away.  
  
"It's ok," Luka said softly. "Everything's ok." And it was. Abby relaxed again in his embrace, put her arm around him, and let herself cry. There were times, Luka thought, when pain was worth it. And this was one of those times.


	15. Chapter 15

Note: This chapter is a little different in style from my usual. Instead of my standard single POV style of writing (ok... show of hands, how many of you have noticed that I never use more than one POV in a chapter? 'Fess up!), this is three short sections, each with a different POV. (Yeah, I _could_ have done it as three very short chapters, but that would have been a bit silly.) Hope it was worth the wait!

-----------

"I told you that you're welcome to stay as long as you need to," Susan said.  
  
"And I have." Abby took an armful of underwear out of Susan's dryer and began to fold it. "You've put me up for over a week. I'm grateful, but I don't need to stay here any more."  
  
"Have you told Carter yet?"  
  
"It's none of Carter's business. And none of yours either, really." More than a little snappish.  
  
"You were with Luka for how long? About a year was it? And it was a disaster. So why do you want to ..."  
  
"I don't," Abby interrupted firmly. "And I'm not. We're not getting back together. I'm doing him a favor, and he's doing me one. We're friends now, Susan. Why can't we help each other?"  
  
"Because my radar says that there is something more to it than that." Susan reached over to pick up the sock that Abby dropped. Her radar was pretty accurate, she knew.  
  
"Then get your radar checked, because it's wrong. Luka and I have hashed through the relationship thing too many times, and we've agreed that it _doesn't_ work. But we do the friend thing pretty well." Abby took her folded laundry to her suitcase and began to pack.  
  
Susan followed her, shaking her head. "I still think someone's going to end up getting hurt."  
  
"Well, it won't be you, so why do you care?"  
  
"Because you're my friend. And I like Luka too. I don't want to see either of you hurt." A half smile. "And, while _you_ may be sure that this is all about friendship, I don't think Luka knows that."  
  
"Luka's a big boy." Abby shut the suitcase. "Can you run me over to his place a little later? I need to drop my stuff off, and I told him I'd bring him some clothes to wear home tomorrow. I'd rather not have to drag my suitcase on the el."  
  
"Sure."  
  
The conversation was interrupted by the doorbell. Susan went to answer it. "Yeah?"  
  
"A delivery for an Abigail Lockhart."  
  
"Come on up." Susan looked at Abby, who shrugged. "Not expecting anything?" she asked.  
  
"Nope."  
  
Susan opened the apartment door to see a delivery man carrying a large bouquet wrapped in white paper.  
  
"Ms Lockhart?"  
  
Abby came to the door, signed for the flowers and carried them to the table. She unwrapped the paper to reveal at least three dozen pink roses.  
  
"Pretty ..." Susan said.  
  
Abby opened the card and frowned. "I'm glad you like them."  
  
"They're for you, aren't they?"  
  
Abby crumpled the card in her fist and threw it in the waste basket. "Luka may be a big boy, but Carter still has some growing up to do."  
  
"I think he might be trying to say he's sorry. I mean, if they were _red _roses I might think he had something more in mind ..."  
  
"It isn't about being sorry. He didn't do anything wrong to be sorry _for_. Not really. It's just ... over, and he can't see that."  
  
"Well ... when he learns that you've moved in with Luka, I'm sure he'll get the message pretty clearly."

----------

Luka slid his legs over the side of the bed. He was still supposed to have a nurse with him when he got out of bed, but hell ... he was going home tomorrow. If they thought him strong enough to go home, he must be strong enough to walk around the room on his own.  
  
He had no particular place to go; he didn't have to use the bathroom, there was no view from his window, but it felt good to be out of bed. Good in some ways, anyway. He was still surprisingly weak, and moving around made the incision hurt. But it felt good to be making progress towards getting well.  
  
It was funny, Luka thought. He worked with sick people every day, but he _sooo_ hated being sick himself. He hated the feeling that his body was letting him down. Usually he was able to push himself through almost any illness or injury and keep going. But not this one. This one was going to take a while to get past.  
  
Luka walked a few steps around the room, just for the sake of walking, then sank down into the visitor's chair. He was exhausted already, far more than he was willling to admit, even to himself. Maybe he would get his breath back and then go back to bed and rest for a while. He had a big day tomorrow. The thought made him smile a little through his pain. A ten minute journey from the hospital to his apartment, something he did on a regular basis, _usually_ didn't meet the definition of 'a big day.' Perspectives change.

Abby wouldn't be by until later, if at all. She wasn't working today, but was getting ready to move to his place. She'd promised to bring him clothes for tomorrow, but she might not be able to bring them until the morning. As much as going home, Luka was looking forward to wearing real clothes again. He hated hospital gowns. He hated everything to do with hospitals -- except for working in them.  
  
They hadn't really talked much about how this was all going to work. Luka had agreed to let her stay with him for a few weeks, until he was well enough to manage on his own and she had found a new place. But once the agreement had been reached, they _hadn't_ talked more about it. Luka didn't know what to say, and Abby hadn't seemed to want to talk about it.

What had Abby been thinking? Luka wasn't sure what _he_ was supposed to think. Or maybe he was just afraid to think. To wonder. To hope. So, for the past several days, their conversation had stuck to safe and neutral topics -- work, tv shows, the news, how he was feeling. But not a word about them. And not a word about Carter.  
  
--------------  
  
Carter glanced at the clock as he hung his coat up. He had about 20 minutes before his shift started. Maybe he'd run upstairs and see Luka for a minute. He'd only been to visit him once. It just felt so awkward, and it shouldn't. Carter shook his head bitterly. They'd been fighting over the same girl for years … and now neither one of them had her. So maybe they _could_ be friends now.

Abby had been spending a lot of time with Luka since the shooting, but that was to be expected. They'd shared a terrible experience, and Abby certainly felt guilty about what had happened to Luka. Of course they were going to commiserate with each other. Would she be there now? Carter wasn't sure if he wanted her to be or not. It would be nice though to know if she'd gotten the flowers, and what she had thought. He'd sent them on impulse. He didn't expect her to come running back to him. He just didn't want to leave things this way.  
  
Well, a quick visit, then to work. His last night shift Next week he'd be back on days.

Luka was sitting in a chair reading a magazine. He smiled when Carter came in and closed the magazine. "I thought I was going to be alone all evening," he said cheerfully.  
  
"No Abby?"  
  
"Is that who you were hoping to see?" A little frown.  
  
"No. I'm just surprised. She's usually here in the evenings." And Carter realized that he was relieved that she wasn't here. He didn't need the awkwardness.  
  
"Not today. She has ... things to do."  
  
Carter nodded and perched on the edge of the bed. "So, rumor has it that they're springing you tomorrow?"  
  
"Rumors are correct for once."  
  
"I guess you'll be glad to be out of here."  
  
"I'll be happier when I'm back here taking care of the patients, not being one."  
  
"Don't rush it," Carter warned him. "That's what I did, and look where it got me."  
  
What _did_ it get him? Carter thought. It got him into addiction, and then into rehab ... where he ended up with Abby as his sponsor. It got him Abby. At least for a while. 

Carter shook off the thoughts, and forced his attention back to Luka.  
  
"I won't come back before I'm ready," Luka assured him. "And I think it will be a while."  
  
"Will you have some help at home? Those first couple of weeks can be rough. I had Gamma's entire staff looking out for me after _my_ surgery."  
  
"I've got some help. I'll be ok."

Luka suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable. Had Carter said something wrong? He knew how much Luka must be hating this. How he hated being ill, being injured. So the idea of needing help even after being discharged, the idea that it was going to be a long time before he was back to normal again, must be hard for him. And he _didn't_ need Carter reminding him of it. Or maybe he was just tired and anxious about being discharged.  
  
"Good. That's nice to know. Feel free to call if you need anything, even just a friendly face."  
  
"I'll be fine, Carter. You don't have to worry about me."


	16. Chapter 16

The cab screeched to a stop, and Luka once again regretted having wrecked his car. Not that he was sure he'd trust Abby to drive it, of course ....  
  
"Need help inside?" asked the cabbie.  
  
"Nope. We're fine," Luka said. He handed the cabbie the fare and opened the car door. A deep breath and he stepped out, then waited for Abby to follow. She offered him a hand and he shook his head a little. "I can manage," he said softly. While it was no secret to the cabbie that he was _not_ in the best of shape; he had, after all, picked them up at the hospital, Luka somehow didn't want him to see how weak he still was. He'd walk without help, at least until they were inside.  
  
Slowly up the stoop, then the wait for Abby to unlock the door. Inside and up the short flight of steps to his apartment. And another wait while Abby unlocked the apartment door. Luka leaned wearily against the wall. It would be good to get inside and sit down again.  
  
And suddenly he noticed where he was standing. Just beside the door. He looked down, he couldn't help it. Someone had cleaned the floor, and the wall, but not perfectly. Blood tended to stain. And there was a dark patch on the floor. Not red anymore, but dark. He saw himself sitting there, felt himself sitting there, leaning against the wall. Felt the warm blood through his fingers. A sensation he was familiar with, he had blood on his hands every day at work. But it was so different when it was your own.  
  
There would be another blood stain too, he knew. He couldn't remember exactly where Brian had been, but he knew that if he looked, somewhere near the top of the steps, would be another darkened patch of carpet. He didn't look. He made himself not look. But he knew that eventually he would look, or maybe he'd notice it some day without even realizing it.  
  
"Luka? Are you ok?" He realized that his eyes were closed and he was trembling a little. A very gentle touch on his arm. He opened his eyes to see Abby's worried face.  
  
A faint smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired. This is harder than I thought it was going to be."  
  
"I know." And Luka knew that she _did_ know that he wasn't just talking about the trip home. "Come on, lets go in and you can sit down."  
  
Luka let Abby take his hand; he could have made it on his own, but she did want to help, and they went inside. Just a few steps to the couch.  
  
Luka had to smile again as he sat down. Abby had made everything ready for the night. Made her intentions very clear. Sheet, blanket and pillow all neatly folded along one end of the couch.  
  
"I see you found everything ok," he said.  
  
"I've been here before."  
  
"Not often enough, and not lately." Luka kept his voice light.  
  
"I don't recall you inviting me lately." A smile.  
  
"Would you have accepted if I had?"  
  
"If you'd asked Carter too."  
  
Of course.  
  
A silence. Luka closed his eyes. He _was_ tired. The silence stretched on.  
  
"Do you need anything?" Abby finally asked. "Something to eat, maybe?"  
  
"No. I just had lunch."  
  
"But that was hospital food. Maybe something better?"  
  
"Are we talking about cooking, or calling out for something?"  
  
"Whatever you want. I'm here to serve." Under the lighthearted words, Luka could hear just a little bit of strain in her voice.  
  
"Maybe a little later."  
  
Luka finally opened his eyes. Abby was fidgeting.  
  
He knew what she was thinking. This had been a mistake. It had seemed like a good idea, but now she was regretting it. She was looking ahead to all the days they would have to spend together, and she _didn't_ look happy.  
  
"How long are you off work?" he asked.  
  
"I took this week off. I told them I might be able to work some half shifts next week, if you're feeling up to managing on your own for a little while by then."  
  
"I'm sure I'll be able to manage."  
  
"I'll also need to spend some time looking for a new place."  
  
"There's no rush. You can take all the time you need." He meant it.  
  
"You say that now," Abby said. "But you'll be sick of me soon enough, and when you kick me out, I'll need to have some place to go." Her voice was light again, she was teasing him. Or was she?  
  
"Find a place you really like," Luka said.  
  
"I may have to settle for a place I can afford."  
  
The doorbell. Luka jumped a bit. His doorbell never rang very often, and the last time it had rung ...  
  
"That's probably Ralene," Abby said. "I asked her to bring me some more of my stuff."  
  
"I'll get it," Luka said, and started to rise.  
  
"No, you just take it easy. I'll get it. That's what I'm here for, remember?" Abby laid a gentle hand on his arm. It was, of course, intended to keep him from trying to get up, to reinforce her words. But Luka suddenly was trembling a little. Their eyes met and Luka saw warmth there again. And a brief smile crossed her face.  
  
"The intercom's broken," he reminded her, more to say something, to cover his sudden discomfort than because he thought she'd forgotten.  
  
"I'll run downstairs and let her in."  
  
"Be careful." The doorbell rang again.  
  
"I will." Her hand stayed on his arm an instant longer, then she rose and went out.  
  
Luka leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. Of course he was shaking a little. He was tired. He was still weak. And hearing the doorbell again ... thinking of going out into the hallway. It had nothing to do with Abby.  
  
He opened his eyes again at the sound of the door opening. Abby came in accompanied by another woman.  
  
"Ralene insisted on coming up," she said. "She's dying to meet you. I told her you were tired ..."  
  
"It's fine Abby," Luka assured her. "Hi, Ralene. Abby's told me a lot about you."  
  
Ralene smiled at him. "Really? She did?" To Abby, "You did?"  
  
"I've mentioned you once or twice," Abby said.  
  
Ralene threw herself down on the chair across from him. She looked to be about Abby's age. Rather pretty, taller than Abby and a bit heavier. Blac curls pulled back into a ponytail, and sparkling black eyes. Eyes that were looking at him with undisguised admiration. "Oh Luka, it was just awful wasn't it? What happened to Abby ... and to you. I just can't imagine ...."  
  
"We're doing fine, Ralene," Abby interrupted.  
  
"Still … it's just so scary. This is _such_ a dangerous city, isn't it? I don't know why I still live here. I'm so glad that Abby has a friend like you to take care of her, Luka. She needs someone to take care of her right now. It was just horrible ..."  
  
"Abby's tough," Luka said. "She's doing great."  
  
"You look like _you're_ feeling a lot better already. Being shot must be awful ... I'm glad you're getting better."  
  
"Ralene," Abby interrupted again firmly. "You need to get going. Luka is still pretty weak, and he needs to rest."  
  
"Ok. I did _sooo_ want to meet you Luka." Ralene rose again. "I'll call in a few days maybe Abby ... just to see how you're getting on?"  
  
"Sure. You can call my cell number any time."  
  
Another smile for Luka. "It was so nice to meet you, Luka."  
  
"Same here, Ralene."  
  
Abby saw Ralene to the door, and the moment it closed behind her Luka burst out laughing -- a laugh that lasted only an instant.  
  
"She's ... different." he finally said, when the pain in his incision had eased enough for him to talk again.  
  
"She's really very nice," Abby said. "She just has a talent for saying the wrong things some times. And she can be rather enthusiastic. But she's been very helpful since all this ... happened. She's brought me a lot of stuff, and my mail. I haven't had to go back at all." She looked at her hands, her good humor fading again.  
  
"She does seem nice," Luka agreed. "But I think I'll take her in very small doses, if you don't mind." He took a deep breath. "I _am_ pretty tired. I think I'll go lie down for a while."  
  
"That sounds smart. Need help into the bedroom?"  
  
"No, I can do it."  
  
"Ok. Yell if you need anything."  
  
"I will." Another smile, then Luka rose and made his slow way into the bedroom. 


	17. Chapter 17

Authors Note: In this chapter and upcoming ones there will be some references to events in _Ice. _

Abby searched in the cupboard. Just regular tea, nothing herbal or decaf. Oh well, it wasn't like it was going to keep her any _more_ awake. She grabbed the kettle just before it whistled and poured the tea. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten a good, full night's sleep. Yes she could. It would have been just about two weeks ago. It felt like longer. Much longer.

Carrying her cup over to the couch, Abby reached for the remote. If she kept the sound muted, she could watch without waking Luka. There must be something worth watching at 1:14 a.m.

The bedroom door opened. Luka looked, Abby thought, exceptionally drawn and pale in the half-light.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." Luka shuffled slowly over to the couch and sat beside her. "Coffee?"

"Tea."

"Got any more?"

"I can make more." Abby set the mug down and returned to the kitchen to put on more water. "Can't sleep either?"

"No."

"Hurting?"

"No, not really. I think I napped too long this afternoon." An obvious lie. He looked exhausted. He _should_ be sleeping. He picked up Abby's mug and took a sip.

"Hey, that's mine!" She smiled at him. .

"Not anymore." He smiled back.

There was a silence while Abby busied herself with making a second cup of tea, and Luka leaned back and shut his eyes, warming his hands around his own cup. But the silence felt almost comfortable now, companionable, not awkward.

"I need to get a pull-out couch, I think," Luka said.

"Why?"

"I know this isn't a very comfortable place to sleep."

"But how often do you have overnight guests who sleep on the couch? You _do_ have a king-sized bed and it's pretty comfortable, if I remember correctly.

"True."

Abby carried her tea over to join Luka. "And the couch is fine. It's really very comfortable. I just ... can't sleep."

"Did you sleep well at Susan's?"

"Not really."

"I've been noticing the dark circles. I didn't want to say anything." He sipped his tea stared into the cup for a moment. "It's hard."

Abby wasn't sure if it was a statement or question. Wasn't sure what to say, if he expected her to say anything. Luka's eyes were closed again. She waited.

Luka rubbed his thumb over the rim of his cup. After a minute he went on quietly. "I thought it would be easier than this. I told you that, remember?"

"Yeah."

"I thought it wouldn't be a big deal. I thought ..." Luka sipped his tea and shook his head.

"I think you expect too much of yourself. You're allowed to feel awful, Luka. And you're allowed to feel sorry for yourself." God knows I do, she thought.

"I don't _want_ to feel sorry for myself. I want to get past this."

"You will," Abby said gently. And she knew it was true. People _did_ get past things like this. She would get past it too. Some day.

Luka just nodded, then opened his eyes again and looked at her for the first time in since she'd rejoined him on the couch. He seemed to be searching her face for something. Evidence that _she_ was getting past it?

"It _is_ hard, Luka. I'm struggling too. I wanted to laugh when you told Ralene this afternoon how tough I was. I'm not dealing with it at all well."

"You seem to be holding up ... except for the not sleeping stuff."

"I fake it well," Abby admitted. "I'm good at faking happiness." A smile. "An early lesson from my childhood."

"Maybe you'd be doing better though if you didn't have me leaning on you so hard. You have your own issues to deal with ... you shouldn't have to be worrying about me."

"I don't mind. I like taking care of you. I'm a nurse, remember? That's what I do. I take care of people." She smiled at him again, put a hand on his arm. And, of course, the longer she could focus on Luka and _his_ problems, the longer she could avoid her own, or at least push them into the background.

"I'm glad," Luka said softly. Then he looked away from her again, but didn't move her hand from his arm. "You know what's crazy?"

"What?"

"I keep thinking ... not just about what happened to me ... and to you ... but I keep thinking about Brian."

"That doesn't sound so crazy. I think about him too."

"No .. not about what he did to us. I keep thinking that he shouldn't have died ... that it's somehow my fault."

"It isn't, Luka. He killed himself. You didn't make him do that. But I'm not sorry that he did."

"You weren't there when it happened." Short.

"That's true. But when I heard ... I was glad."

"But we'll have a chance to get through this ... move on with _our_ lives. He won't."

"It was _his_ choice, Luka. He could have chosen to be alive, and in jail. He chose to be dead. It wasn't your fault."

"Or maybe," Luka said with a wry smile, "I'm just sorry that _I_ didn't get to do it ... after what he did to you."

"So lets just be glad that he saved you the trouble."

Luka nodded again, took Abby's hand from his arm and held it in both of his. "I don't know. I just keep replaying it over and over again in my head. Thinking that if I'd done something differently ... maybe I could have changed something. Anything. Helped you ... myself ... even Brian."

"You couldn't. There was nothing you could have done differently." A beat. "But you're not the only one. I do it too."

"Do what?"

"Replay it. Try to figure what I could have done differently. Even ... while it was happening, I was trying to figure what I'd done ... what I could have done to have stopped him. Taken an earlier train, or a later one. He was waiting in the hall for me. He couldn't have been there very long. Maybe if I'd talked to Ralene a little longer he would have given up and left. Maybe if I'd screamed he would have panicked ... run. But I was too scared."

Abby suddenly realized that there were tears in her eyes again. And that she was leaning against Luka's shoulder, his arm was around her.

"He had a gun, Abby," Luka said gently. "You did what you had to do."

"I know that. I just ..." She shook her head. She didn't know what more to say. Or maybe there just wasn't anything more that needed to be said.

"We make quite a pair," Luka said.

"Yeah ... we do." And the tears spilled over again. Even as she cried, Abby was furious with herself. This was wrong. Luka was the one who had really suffered, who was _still_ suffering. So why should he have to be the one comforting her? But she was glad all the same that he was there to comfort her.

"You're going to be ok." Luka's voice was gentle. She felt his breath in her hair as he spoke, and felt the soft brush of his lips on the top of her head.

"I know," she whispered, and nestled closer into his arms.

"And we're going to be ok."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Abby opened her eyes to sunshine through the window. For a moment she was confused. She should be sleeping on Susan's couch ... But no, she was at Luka's, on Luka's couch. 

She was sleeping sitting up, cramped and uncomfortable. Luka's arms were still wrapped securely around her. He was still asleep. As uncomfortable as _she_ was, Abby knew that he must be even worse off. The awkward position, her weight on his chest, must be causing him a lot of pain. But Luka didn't seem to mind. He slept quietly. She should wake him up, Abby thought. She should help him back to his bed. It was morning, but still very early, just past sun-rise. She should wake him, but she didn't have the heart. He looked so calm, and he needed the sleep.

Abby closed her eyes again and went back to sleep herself.


	18. Chapter 18

Luka turned over and looked at the clock. Just past midnight. He'd slept for almost two hours. And, if this night was anything like the last two (and there was no reason to think it wouldn't be), he'd spend about 3 hours lying in bed awake before finally drifting off to sleep again. Then he would sleep and wake two or three times more before Abby come to wake him for breakfast and he would be able to get up..

Abby was awake too. Luka could hear her moving around in the living room, could hear the soft murmur of the tv. He could use something to drink, could stand to just stretch his legs, but he didn't get up. He wouldn't go into the living room. It would only worry Abby, Better for her to think he was sleeping well -- doing better. Because she was doing the same for him. Lying. Despite the clear evidence provided by the deepening circles under her eyes and the sounds of footsteps coming through the thin walls at all hours, she assured him every morning that she'd slept 'pretty well.'

But Luka knew that if he could hear her, she'd be able to hear him as well. So he stayed in bed, stayed quiet. He stared into the darkness and tried to _not_ see the images that haunted him, tried to ignore the constant dull pain in his chest, tried to not think.

Only once in the three nights since he'd come home had he slept for more than about 3 hours at a stretch. He'd wakened at 8:30 that first morning, after sleeping for a solid 6 hours. Wakened to find himself on the couch and Abby trying to slip out of his arms without waking him. He had been embarrassed, and so had she. That _wasn't_ something that he had planned to happen. They were friends now, that was all. Whatever was happening between her and Carter, she'd given no indication that she was interested in anything more than friendship with _him_. She was, as she had said so often, just trying to help him. She had made it clear, as she had so many times in the past year and a half, that their relationship was over. She just wanted to be friends. But, despite her obvious unease with the intimacy, she assured him that it was ok. He hadn't done anything inappropriate, they had just slept. They had both needed the sleep. And, though she didn't say it in so many words, they both knew that they had both needed the comfort.

Luka had to smile. The comfort he'd been seeking for so many months, from an endless succession of women visiting his bed for a night, or a week. Sex was supposed to provide comfort ... connection ... intimacy. It hadn't happened with any of those women.. All he'd gotten out of those encounters had been a few minutes of distraction from his emotional pain and misery, a momentary physical release ... and then a vague sense of disgust with himself and with the woman who had given herself to him so thoughtlessly. And then, with the morning, a more intense, almost overwhelming loneliness. A loneliness he then tried to forget the next night, with another stranger in his bed. Sex was meaningless now. The last time it had meant something had been ... well ... the last time he had slept with Abby.

One hundred sexual encounters had brought him nothing. But a single night with Abby, a night spent doing nothing but sleeping ... that had been something he'd been needing for a very long time.

But it was something he knew he wouldn't have again. They hadn't talked much about it, but Luka knew Abby wouldn't allow it to happen again. If he _was_ to venture out of his room in the night, she would make sure that he didn't fall asleep on the couch again. That was _her_ territory. Luka had his bed, and Abby was careful to spend little time in his room. She didn't want him to get the wrong idea.

So Luka didn't venture out of his room at night. It would only worry Abby if she knew he still wasn't sleeping, and he didn't want to make things awkward or uncomfortable between them.

Because, while the nights were rough; far too long, with too much pain and too little sleep, the days were much, _much_ better. The discomfort of those first hours was gone. They got along well. Luka didn't need, quite honestly, much in the way of nursing care. He could take care of himself. But Abby was always there to provide the little bits of help that he did need. And just having her there was nice. Light conversation alternating with comfortable silences. Luka had lived alone for so long, he'd almost forgotten what is was like to have someone else there. He'd almost forgotten how pleasant it was. While Luka couldn't help worrying a little about Abby, she was going to get sick herself if she didn't start sleeping again; he found that he liked listening to her moving around in the other room. Just knowing she was there was a comfort during the long sleepless hours.

Luka shut his eyes and tried to find a more comfortable position in bed. He listened to Abby's footsteps through the wall and tried to fall back to sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

Abby tapped on the closed bedroom door.  
  
"Yeah. Come in." She opened the door. Luka was still in bed.  
  
"You getting up? It's almost 10."  
  
"Yeah, I'm moving." He sat up in bed. He looked, Abby thought, very tired. She couldn't help worrying about him. Luka usually rebounded quickly from illness. She'd seen him come to work sick, hurt, hungover, more times than she could count. But he seemed to be having a hard time coming back from this one. He was still too pale, too worn-out looking, he moved too slowly. If anything he seemed worse now than when she'd brought him home 5 days earlier. As far as she could tell, he was sleeping ok now, but it didn't seem to be doing him much good.  
  
"I can bring you breakfast in bed," she said, sounding more cheerful than she felt.  
  
"That won't be necessary," Luka assured her with a tired smile. He swung his legs around the edge of the bed and stood up -- then sat down again quickly, closing his eyes.  
  
"Whoa!" Abby was at his side. "You ok?"  
  
"I'm fine. Just a little dizzy." Abby frowned, and the worry on her face must have been obvious, because Luka shook his head and said, a little irritably, "I'm really ok. I just stood up too fast." He stood up again, a little more slowly this time. "See. Everything's fine."  
  
"Ok. I'll get breakfast going. Yell if you need anything."  
  
Abby left Luka to dress by himself and returned to the kitchen. She'd have to do some shopping soon, she thought. Breakfast options were getting pretty low. She started the coffee, put the last two slices of raisin bread in the toaster and located a carton of yogurt that wasn't yet expired behind a bowl of leftover spaghetti in the fridge. Luka wasn't usually a big breakfast eater, she knew, but he needed to eat well if he was going to get his strength back.  
  
She was just buttering the toast when Luka came out of the bedroom, dressed, but still looking rather pale and tired, and moving slowly. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down and took a sip.  
  
"From now on, I make the coffee," he said.  
  
"And what's wrong with the coffee?"  
  
"Not a thing. If you like drinking dishwater."  
  
"Beats the paintstripper _you _make." They smiled at each other.  
  
"Maybe we'll have to each make our own coffee ..."  
  
The conversation was interrupted by the musical tones of Abby's cell phone. She took it from her pocket and looked at it, then put it back without a word. She wasn't smiling anymore.  
  
"Not going to answer it?"  
  
"Obviously not."  
  
"Carter again."  
  
"Obviously.. That makes three calls." Abby sighed and shook her head.  
  
"You can't go on ignoring him forever, Abby."  
  
"Three days isn't forever. I have nothing to say to him right now."  
  
"Well ... maybe you need to tell him that."  
  
Abby just shook her head and took a bite of her toast. She didn't want to deal with this right now. She didn't want to think about this right now.  
  
"Are you still sure that it's over?" Luka asked.  
  
"I ... I don't know. I think so."  
  
"Have you told him that?"  
  
"No. I told him I needed some time. And I still do."  
  
"So tell him that. It's not fair to keep stringing him along. It's just going to get harder the longer you wait. You _will_ be seeing him at work. I think you need to get this settled before you go back next week."  
  
"I know." A sigh. "Remind me to never get involved with people from work. It's just too complicated when it all falls apart."  
  
"Yeah." Luka suddenly wasn't looking at her.  
  
"We're doing good _now_," Abby explained quickly. "But those first few weeks were pretty awful. Remember?"  
  
"I remember." Luka sipped his coffee. "So, will you talk to him?"  
  
"I will. Just not right now. It isn't the kind of thing you do over the phone."  
  
"So go talk to him in person."  
  
"I don't like to leave you alone. I'm supposed to be looking after you."  
  
"I'll be fine for a couple of hours," Luka said. "And I think we can both stand a break from each other for a little while."  
  
"Getting sick of me already?"  
  
"No, not a bit."  
  
"Ok," Abby finally agreed, reluctantly. "I'll go have a chat with Carter and pick up some groceries. The cupboards are getting pretty bare. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Call if you need anything, ok?"  
  
"I will. But I'm sure I'll be fine."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I thought you were off this week," said Lydia, spotting Abby as she walked through the ambulance bay doors.  
  
"I am. Is Carter around anywhere?" Maybe, Abby thought, he'd be off today. But, no such luck.  
  
"He's in exam 2, I think."  
  
Abby poked her head through the door. "Carter?"  
  
A startled look. A cautious smile. "Hey, Abby."  
  
"When you have a minute, can we talk?"  
  
"Sure. Just give me about ten minutes to finish up a couple of patients."  
  
"That's fine. I'll meet you over at Doc Magoo's?" Abby felt uneasy about being here. She still hadn't told anyone but Susan that she was staying at Luka's. It wasn't anyone's business, but she knew that if anyone found out they'd just draw the wrong conclusions, or ask awkward questions. She'd just as soon avoid those questions. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Abby picked at her sandwich. She wasn't really hungry, having just had breakfast, but she'd ordered something to occupy her hands. Carter was taking way more than ten minutes. She knew he had a good reason -- she'd heard sirens. He was probably occupied with a trauma or some other emergency. But the long wait was just making it harder. She wasn't even sure yet what she was going to say to him, though she'd thought about it all the way here on the el. She hoped that the right words would just come when she needed them.  
  
After all the waiting, Abby didn't even hear Carter come in. His voice startled her.  
  
"Sorry I'm late, Abby," he said, sliding into the booth across from her. "An MI came in just as I was about to leave."  
  
"It's ok. I figured it was something like that."  
  
"You're looking good," Carter said. A lie was not a good way to start the conversation.  
  
Abby took a deep breath. "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I've been ignoring your calls. I just wasn't sure what to say to you."  
  
"You're taking some time off work to get yourself together again?"  
  
"Yeah." If he could lie, so could she. "I just needed a little more time."  
  
"It's a good idea. You went through something horrible. You're not going to recover over night."  
  
"Carter," Abby interrupted firmly. "I don't want to talk about that right now. I came here because we need to talk about us." Abby trailed off. That _was_ what they needed to talk about, but she still wasn't sure what to say. The words _weren't_ coming.  
  
She was going to tell him that it was over. That is wasn't his fault and it had nothing to do with what had happened to her. That they had grown apart and there was no sense in wasting both their time with a relationship that wasn't going anywhere. That she didn't really blame him for anything, but that it was better to end it now, while they could still be friends, than to wait until they ended up hating each other.  
  
But now, sitting across the table from him, the words wouldn't come. He looked so hopeful. And the relationship wasn't really all that bad, was it? It wasn't fireworks and roses, but they got along ok. And it wasn't as if she had anyone else waiting for her. She wasn't angry with him anymore ... it really _hadn't_ been his fault. Maybe if they both tried a little harder, they could make it work.  
  
"Carter," Abby began again, "look ... I know I was pretty hard on you. It wasn't your fault. It's just been rough for me, you know ...." She was rescued by the ringing of her phone. She took it out and checked the display. It was Luka. "Excuse me a second." Abby stood up and walked quickly away from the table before answering. She still wasn't ready to explain _this_ to Carter. "Luka, what's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing. I'm just ... how much longer will you be?" His voice sounded a little odd, but Abby couldn't put her finger on what was wrong.  
  
"I'm not sure. Maybe another hour."  
  
A hesitation. "I think you need to come home."  
  
Abby felt her stomach turn over. Luka sounded calm enough but that 'something' in his voice was still there. A little breathless. Fear? Pain? It was hard to tell.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked again, her grip tightening on the phone.  
  
"I don't know. I don't think it's anything ... I just don't feel well."  
  
"Ok. I'll be right there. If things get worse, you call an ambulance, you hear me?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Abby hung up the phone and returned to the table. Carter looked at her expectantly.  
  
"I have to go. We'll talk about this more later, I promise." She took out her wallet. "Can you pay the waitress for me?"  
  
"Sure. What's going on?"  
  
"Nothing. I'll explain another time. I just have to go."  
  
Carter waved away the money she held out to him. "I'll cover this. You go do whatever you need to do."  
  
"Thanks." 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Abby reached the platform just as the train was pulling away. She paced restlessly as she waited for the next one. Maybe she should call a cab instead. But no, that wouldn't get her home any faster. By the time it got here and then made its way through city traffic ....  
  
Maybe she should call Luka back, double check that he was still ok. No, he was fine, she told herself firmly. The man was a doctor, after all. He'd know if something was seriously wrong. And he'd been fine when she'd left. Maybe he was running a bit of a fever, or was feeling lightheaded again. He was probably resting now. She wouldn't bother him, make him get up by calling him again. He'd only scold her for worrying too much. He never liked her to worry too much. 


	20. Chapter 20

Abby struggled with the key. The door wouldn't open. Was the problem the lock, unfamiliar and a bit sticky, or was it because her hand was shaking too hard to turn it? 

She'd told herself a thousand times since she'd hung up the phone that everything was fine. Luka was fine. He would have called her back, or called an ambulance himself if things were worse. But the fear still nagged at her.

The key finally turned; the door swung open. "Luka!" She didn't see him. The apartment felt empty, and as always, rather dark despite the late morning sunshine through the windows. The tv was on, tuned to a talk show. He'd be in the bedroom of course, resting. "Luka!" she called again. "Where are ..." and her voice cut off in shock.

He was sitting by the couch, on the floor. He leaned against the couch, his head resting on the seat. His eyes were closed and, even from the across the room Abby could see that his skin was grey and beaded with sweat. It plastered his hair to his forehead. He hadn't stirred, hadn't reacted to the sound of the door, or her voice or her footsteps.

For one brief, heart-rending instant, Abby was certain that he was dead. He was too still. But more, it was something in his face -- drawn, slack, hollow, mouth slightly open. Abby had seen too many people die. And too often they looked just like that.

But no, he was breathing. As she got closer she heard the sound of it over the voices on the tv. Very rapid, very shallow, and very hoarse.

Relief and terror battled within her. He was alive, but something was clearly, horribly wrong. Abby dropped to her knees beside him, called his name again. She checked his pulse; like his breathing it was too rapid, too weak. And his skin was cold and clammy. Two trails of sweat trickled down his temples.

Abby shook him. "Luka! Come on ... open your eyes." An endless moment, then his eyelids fluttered. His eyes opened. He looked in her direction, and, for another long instant, didn't seem to see her. Then his eyes widened a little, and the glazed emptiness gave way to a look of pain. The frightening stillness was replaced by trembling and his breathing, still much too rapid, deepened a little. His hands clenched into fists.

"Luka? Can you hear me?" A nod. "What hurts?" Her own voice shook.

"Chest ..." Very faint. "Can't breathe ..."

Luka looked frightened now. More frightened than she'd ever seen him before. And, perhaps in response, Abby's nurse training kicked in. She instinctively pushed back her own fear and her manner became calm, reassuring, professional.

"Ok. Let's get you lying down." He was in shock, that much was clear. Really, everything was clear. Abby had been a nurse for too long, had seen these symptoms too often to be in any doubt about what was wrong. She'd seen pulmonary embolisms before. And Luka had seen them too. They had both seen patients die from them. _Why_ hadn't he called for help? He had to have known what was happening.

She got him lying down on the floor, covered him with the blanket from the couch, all the while saying meaningless, reassuring things. "It's ok," she said. "Everything is going to be ok ... nice and easy now ..."

She had to go to the phone now, call 911. But as she started to stand, Luka grabbed her arm.

"Stay!" he gasped.

"I'm just going to the phone. I have to call an ambulance." Reluctantly, Luka released his grip on her arm and Abby went to get the phone. She saw his eyes following her, watching her. Then they fell shut. "Luka! Stay awake!" Dialing 911, she carried the receiver back to his side, took his hand. Luka's eyes opened again for a moment, then closed again. He was struggling to stay conscious, to breathe. His grip on her hand was weak. "Luka!" she said again. "You have to stay with me!"

The 911 operator answered, and Abby quickly gave her the address, then dropped the phone to give Luka her full attention. "Ok, help is coming," she said gently.

"It's here," Luka murmured, and tried to smile but couldn't quite manage it. He opened his eyes again, was watching her face. What was he looking at? Looking for?

Abby knew he shouldn't be talking, he needed to save his strength, but the quesion came out anyway. "Why didn't you call for help? Why did you wait so long?"

"Tried ... couldn't walk ... fell ..."

God ... why had she left him alone? In her imagination, Abby could see it. She saw Luka struggling to walk, trying to get to the phone, his pain and breathlessness increasing every moment, his legs giving way beneath him. And, all the while _she_ had been off talking to Carter; thinking only of herself, of a meaningless relationship, of a man who meant nothing to her, had _never_ really meant anything to her. Imagining that there was something salvagable there. Something worth having.

Luka's eyes closed once more. His grip on her hand was weaker. "Luka!" Abby blinked back tears. "Stay with me!" she said again. _Please_ ... _stay_ _with_ _me_. _We_ _belong_ _together_. _Don't_ _leave_ _me_ _now_. A slight fluttering of his lashes, but he didn't open his eyes.His breathing was slow now, labored, he was running out of strength. He'd been struggling for too long.

"Just listen to my voice, Luka. Concentrate on my voice, and stay awake." And again, his eyes opened. For just an instant he looked at her, then they fell shut one more time.

His grip on her hand went slack -- and he stopped breathing.

"No!" It was a cry of pain. Then Abby called his name again, shook him. He was limp, still. Almost afraid to check, she felt his throat. There was a faint vibration. He still had a pulse.

"Hold on, Luka ... try to hold on ..." Tilting his head back, Abby sealed her mouth on his, breathed air into his lungs, and was reassured by the sight of his chest rising slightly. A few more breaths, then she checked his pulse again. His heart was still beating.

But she shouldn't be doing this. Her mouth _should_ be on his, but it should be kisses. She should be kissing him. How long had it been since she'd kissed him? She shouldn't _have_ to be doing this. Abby wiped her eyes and pressed her mouth to his one more time. And heard sirens.


	21. Chapter 21

Author's note. Sorry for the wait on this one. I wanted to be sure the medical stuff was right, and I had a bit of real life this week. The next chapter (which was originally going to be part of this one) will be sooner. Promise.

Also, a bit of medical background for those who don't know much about it. I don't want to have the characters telling each other things they already know just to exposit it to the readers! PE is pulmonary embolism. It's a blood clot in the arteries of the lung. It's a fairly common complication after major surgery, though most aren't as bad as this one. The clot prevents the blood from getting adequate oxygen from the lungs. It's usually treated supportively, since the clot breaks down on its own, and herapin is given to prevent further clots. But if the clot is extensive and the patient is unstable/deteriorating, sometimes drugs called thrombolytics are given to hasten the breaking down of the initial clot. (Risky, since the drugs also keep the blood from clotting where you want it to, so it can result in uncontrolled bleeding.)

Ok... on with our story.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The ambulance bay doors flew open. The paramedics were getting lax about calling ahead. Susan had been heading out for lunch. Carter was in Trauma 1 working on an MI. The patient looked pretty stable, so she was going to take advantage of the momentary lull to grab something to eat. But ... no such luck. She'd have to take this one. Maybe it would be quick and easy. Not everyone who arrived by ambulance was at death's door.  
  
Then she saw them. Abby was walking beside the gurney; her face pale, her eyes red and bright with unshed tears. Her gaze was fixed on the figure on the gurney.  
  
The rest of the scene was too familiar. A tall, still form, deathly white, eyes closed. The paramedic squeezed an ambu-bag. But there was no blood this time, and Abby clung to his hand.  
  
Before the paramedic could say anything, Abby glanced away from Luka for a moment, saw her, and began to speak rapidly. The calmness of her voice contrasted with the grief on her face. "I think it's a PE. He was having chest pain, difficulty breathing. He was in shock."  
  
"When did it start?" asked Susan, as they headed into Trauma 2.  
  
"I'm not sure." A little tremor in her voice now. "I was out. I got home, he was unconscious. He woke up for a minute or two ... then he crashed ... stopped breathing."  
  
"How long has he been out?" She might have been talking to a stranger, asking _about_ a stranger. It was the only way she was going to be able to do this again.  
  
"About 10 minutes."  
  
While they transferred Luka from the gurney to the exam table, Susan looked at Abby for a moment. She could see the barely surpressed hysteria there. And she knew that if Abby lost it, she would probably break herself.  
  
"Abby, we'll take care of him now. Why don't you get a cup of coffee and wait in chairs."  
  
"No!" Desperate. "I'm not leaving. He ... he wants me here."  
  
"Ok. Yosh, grab her a chair, would you?" The pain in Abby's face was not that of a nurse worrying about the patient she had been caring for. Nor was it the look of a friend fearing for a friend. This was something new.  
  
Susan turned her attention to her patient, forced herself to focus on the job at hand. The paramedics had squeezed in almost a liter of saline in the ambulance, but he was still in shock, his pressure still too low. When they stopped bagging him for a moment, he made an attempt to breathe, but his resps were much too shallow, too weak, too rapid. She knew that they were not sufficient to provide him with adequate oxygen, and he would only exhaust himself in a few minutes and arrest again. Even with the bagging, his sats were dangerously low; the clot wasn't allowing enough oxygen into his blood.  
  
"Luka!" she called to him. "Luka, open your eyes." A slight trembling of his lashes, then he was still again. She took his hand ... it was ice cold, limp, the nails were blue. "Luka, try to squeeze my hand." Nothing. Abby was still holding his other hand, and a few tears wet her face now.  
  
Susan looked quickly away from Abby and again managed to shut off her own feelings. She was a doctor. Doctors weren't allowed to have feelings. She briskly did all the necessary things; ordering oxygen and a vent, more saline and pressors to get his pressure up, ordering labs, and completing the brief but thorough assessment. His heartbeat on the monitor showed the rhythm typical in massive PE, and listening with her stethoscope, she could hear the murmer.  
  
She knew she should order more tests. There _were_ other things that could cause these symptoms, and if she'd guessed wrong the results could be catastrophic. But she also knew that he wouldn't live long enough to wait for a V/Q scan. She had to do something now. Despite everything they'd done for him, all the supportive treatments, he was still deteriorating. An if she guessed wrong ... she hoped he would understand.  
  
"How long since his surgery, Abby?"  
  
"Just over two weeks."  
  
"Good. Let's start him on TPA. 15 mg. bolus, then 50 over the next 30 minutes, and another 50 over an hour."  
  
"Shouldn't you do more tests?" Abby asked.  
  
"There's no time, and the symptoms are pretty clear." Another look at Luka's grey face. Too still, but he looked calm. The thought came to her head that if he died, at least he wouldn't suffer. He didn't seem to be in any pain now. Then, "Why didn't you get him here sooner?"  
  
"I told you ... I was out. I didn't know."  
  
"You must have seen _something_ before you went out, noticed that something wasn't right. You're a nurse, Abby!"  
  
"He didn't ... I didn't ..." Abby shook her head in confusion, and Susan regretted her words. There was no sense in assigning blame now.  
  
"I'm sorry. That was out of line. It wasn't your fault. But if he'd gotten here sooner ..."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I'm going to do everything I can, and he's strong, but I can't promise anything."  
  
"I know." Again, the deceptive calm just above the storm. Abby touched Luka's face.  
  
Susan took a deep breath to calm herself again, and looked at the monitors for a moment. And saw, through the glass, Carter in the adjoining room. He was looking at them. He'd been looking at Abby, then, seeming to sense something, he looked at her.  
  
Had Abby seen him? Susan doubted that she had. Abby had barely taken her eyes from Luka's face since they'd arrived.  
  
"Ok. It's going to take a little time for the TPA to run in and start working. He looks stable for the moment. I'm going to get a cup of coffee, check on some other patients. Yosh, page me if there's any change, and call up to the ICU. He's going to need a bed soon." _That's right, Susan. Be optimistic. He **will** need a bed upstairs, not a space in the morgue._ She gave Abby an encouraging smile, but Abby didn't seem to notice. She was still watching Luka.


	22. Chapter 22

Carter waylaid Susan halfway to the lounge. He opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to change his mind. Maybe he was waiting for _her_ to say something. He followed her in.  
  
Susan poured herself a cup of coffee, then held up the pot. "You want the dregs?" Carter shook his head, still silent. "I should probably take them myself. The grounds are the closest thing I'm going to get to lunch today, I think."  
  
"How's Luka?" Abrupt.  
  
"Holding on." Susan took the can of coffee out of the cupboard to start a fresh pot.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Massive PE. He's pretty bad, but stable for the moment. I started TPA, so if he can hang on until it lyses the clot, he should make it."  
  
"Good." Carter looked like he wished he had a cup of coffee in his hands. Anything to occupy them. He seemed to be searching for what to say next. Finally, "I guess he was lucky that Abby was there." He looked at Susan for a moment, then away again.  
  
"Carter, if you want to know what's going on with Abby and Luka, you'll have to ask Abby. Or Luka." It wasn't hard to guess what he was _really_ asking.  
  
"I'm not jealous. I'm glad ... I'm glad they have each other to rely on right now."  
  
"Then maybe you should lose the 'whipped puppy' look. It isn't becoming."  
  
A wry smile. "Is it that obvious?"  
  
"I was beginning to wonder if it was tattooed on. Or maybe it was one of those Greek theater masks."  
  
"They're spending a lot of time together." It wasn't a question.  
  
Susan just shrugged, continued to busy herself with the coffee. She wasn't, to be quite honest, quite sure herself what was happening with Luka and Abby. And she wasn't going to try to guess out loud. At least not in front of Carter.  
  
"Come on, Susan. She's staying with you and you're good friends. She must have told you something."  
  
"She isn't staying with me anymore. She moved out at the beginning of the week."  
  
"She's back home?"  
  
"Talk to her, Carter!"  
  
"I will. This isn't exactly the best time for it though."  
  
"No, it isn't," Susan agreed.  
  
"I'm not stupid," Carter said quickly. "I know we've been having a lot of problems, and I know that we're ... done. I just wish ...." He shook his head.  
  
"It wasn't Luka?" she suggested with a smile, finishing her coffee.  
  
"No! That it had been under different circumstances. I don't want either of us to be left with the feeling that ... I dropped her when things got rough. And I don't want other people to think that either."  
  
Another smile, one without much humor in it. "They won't. I think everyone knows that she dropped _you_, Carter." Susan dropped her cup in the trash. "Talk to her," she said again. "Figure out where you stand." She returned to the trauma room.  
  
The monitor readings were unchanged, as was the worried look on Abby's face.  
  
"How is he?"  
  
"He's starting to open his eyes. But still no response to verbal commands," Yosh said quietly. "ICU has a bed when we're ready for it."  
  
"Good." She leaned over Luka, didn't resist the sudden urge to brush a strand of hair from his face. "Luka!" Again, the slight flutter of his lashes. "Come on, Luka, open your eyes. It's Susan. I need to talk to you ... about a patient." Another slight fluttering, then they opened, gazed dully in her general direction for a moment, then closed again.  
  
"That's the best he can do," Abby whispered. Her voice was calm and steady, but there was no question that she'd been crying.  
  
Susan put a reassuring smile back on her face. "And it's the best we can expect right now. He's sedated for the vent, he's getting some pain meds. He's really doing very well." An exaggeration, but he _was_ still stable. He was no worse. They couldn't expect him to get much better until the TPA had done it's job.  
  
"_And_ he was deprived of oxygen," Abby said, still quietly, interrupting Susan's optimistic words and thoughts.  
  
"Not for very long. It shouldn't have any long term ..."  
  
"You were right," Abby interrupted again. "I shouldn't have left him. I'm supposed to be looking after him."  
  
"You couldn't be there every minute. I'm sure you had things ..."  
  
"I _didn't_! It wasn't anything important. I didn't have to go out." Abby shook her head and lowered her voice a little. Setting down Luka's hand she took a few steps away from bed. Susan knew she didn't want to disturb or upset him if he could hear. "I shouldn't have left him. And I should have noticed something. He just hasn't been getting better as fast as he should. He's been so tired; I didn't push him to get up and move around as much as he should ... as much as _I_ should. If he'd been more active ..."  
  
"This probably would have still happened," Susan said firmly.  
  
"You don't know that."  
  
"And you can't say for sure that it wouldn't have. Abby, let's stop with all the 'if only's' and 'I should have's' and concentrate on what we know. Which is that he's doing well. He's stable, he'll be starting to improve soon. I think he's going to get through this."  
  
A sound from the bed. Luka was stirring a little. The first spontaneous movement they'd seen since he'd been brought in. Abby was back there in a moment, holding his hand, calling his name. He was trying to open his eyes. Looking at the monitor, Susan saw that his sats were starting to come up. His heart beat was more regular. He made faint sounds in his throat as he tried to fight the vent. And Susan breathed a little easier herself. The clot was starting to break up. Abby was still calling his name, blinking back tears of relief.  
  
Luka's eyes finally opened. He focused his gaze on Abby, who smiled at him. He looked at Susan for a moment, then back at Abby.  
  
"Luka? Can you hear me?" Susan said. He nodded, but didn't take his eyes from Abby. "Do you know where you are?" Another nod. "Are you in any pain?" A moment's thought, then a slow shake of the head. "Good. We're going to leave the tube in place for a little while longer. You're going upstairs to the ICU soon. You'll be extubated there, as soon as we're sure you're breathing well on your own."  
  
"You gave us quite a scare," Abby said, her voice shaking a little behind the smile. "But you're going to be fine."  
  
Luka nodded again slowly and tried to smile back at Abby. Susan saw his grip tighten a little on her hand.Then he closed his eyes and went back to sleep, still clutching Abby's hand. 


	23. Chapter 23

Abby tilted her head back, rubbed her free hand on the back on her neck. She was exhausted. Susan had been trying to get her to leave. She'd been sitting by Luka's bed all afternoon and into the night.  
  
"You aren't doing him any good sitting here," Susan kept reminding her. "He's doing fine. And he's asleep. He doesn't even know you're here."  
  
Which was, of course, all the more reason for her to be there. Whenever he woke up, she had to be there. And it was taking a very long time. He _wasn't_ waking up, and Abby couldn't help worrying about that. The brief moment of alertness in the ER had been a fluke. Now, when they called his name, he would sometimes open his eyes for a moment, and then slip under yet again. But usually there was no response at all.  
  
This was normal. Susan had told her that too a dozen times. His body had been through a terrible strain. He was exhausted after too many nights with too little sleep. He was still lightly sedated. Rest and sleep were the best thing for him now. And Abby knew all that, but it didn't lessen the worry, or make the long hours any easier. Also, while he was starting to breathe on his own, the ICU doctors wanted to wait to extubate until he was awake, and it was so hard seeing him tied to the vent. It made him look even sicker than she knew he already was.  
  
Finally though, Abby _had_ to get up. The four cups of coffee she'd had since midnight (brought to her by the helpful ICU nurse) had gone through her ... she had to use the bathroom. And get another cup of coffee to keep her going for another couple of hours.  
  
Abby kissed Luka's hand and set it down. "I'll be right back," she told him. A quick dash to the lady's room, then the coffee machine in the visitor's lounge. The cafeteria had marginally better coffee, but it was a long walk. She didn't want to be gone too long. While waiting for it to dispense her cup she heard a quiet voice behind her.  
  
"He's doing better?" Carter. Leaning against the wall, sipping his own cup.  
  
"Are you on tonight?" Abby asked in surprise. Surely Carter should be home now. It was barely 5, not yet time for the day shift to come back. And she knew he'd worked yesterday.  
  
"No, not until 7. But I had some paper work to take care of."  
  
They lied to each other so smoothly, didn't they? Even when each knew that the other was lying. He had no paperwork with him. How long had _he_ been there?  
  
"He's sleeping. And he's stable. They'll extubate as soon as he wakes up."  
  
"Good. I'm glad."  
  
Was that another lie? Abby wasn't so sure this time. "He'll probably spend the rest of the day in the ICU, then move to a regular room," she said.  
  
"And then what?" Still very quiet.  
  
"And then _what_?" The question puzzled her.  
  
Carter didn't answer, just shook his head.  
  
Abby shrugged. "Assuming all goes well, four or five days of IV heparin, then he can go home again on oral anticoagulants." Why was she having to tell him this? _He_ was a doctor, he knew how PE was treated.  
  
"And you'll be looking after him then?"  
  
"If he still wants me there, yeah."  
  
"That's good. He'll need a good nurse for a while. And you're one of the best."  
  
"Not yesterday, I wasn't," Abby said softly.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"  
  
"There was nothing to tell. There _is_ nothing to tell. I've just been helping him. Like you said, he needed a nurse."  
  
"That's all it is?"  
  
"Yes. That's all it is. I'm sleeping on the couch."  
  
"And what about us?"  
  
"We're friends?" Abby looked at the murky liquid in her cup. Her thoughts weren't much clearer than that. She was just too tired right now. And her world had been falling apart for too long. What did Carter want her to say? "I'm sorry, John. I didn't want it to be this way. I thought maybe we could work it out, I wanted to be able to, but we can't. Can we try for friends now?"  
  
"We have to work together, Abby. We _have_ to be friends, right?"  
  
"Are _you_ ok with that?"  
  
"Sure. As long as you're happy, I'm happy."  
  
A half smile. "Ask me about that part in a couple of weeks. Right now I think I'd settle for 'not running screaming from the room.' "  
  
"You'll make it, Abby. And so will he."  
  
"I know." Abby looked out the window for a minute. "I need to get back to him."  
  
"Yeah, you do."  
  
Abby finally turned from the window, met Carter's eyes for the first time. He smiled at her, and she felt like some small part of the weight she'd been carrying had been lifted from her shoulders. She wasn't quite so tired any more.  
  
"Let me know when he can have visitors, ok? I'd like to stop by for a minute."  
  
"I'll make sure a message gets down to the ER." Abby got a second cup of abysmal coffee to take back to Luka's room. She could feel Carter watching her go.  
  
-------  
  
In the ICU, something was different. It took Abby a moment to figure out what it was. Luka's hand was no longer lying where she had set it down. And his eyes were open. Rather wide, and a little scared. Why had she been gone so long? She was just going to leave for a moment! But, once again, Luka had needed her, and she hadn't been here.  
  
"Luka?" She quickly moved to where he'd be able to see her, and took his hand again. "It's ok. There's nothing to be scared of. They wanted to wait to take the tube out until you were fully awake. It should come out soon, you're doing a lot better."  
  
Luka nodded slowly, but he still looked frightened and rather vague. His eyes left her face to look around the room. And Abby felt another twinge of worry. He seemed to be awake, but something wasn't right. She swallowed the bitter taste of fear. "Luka? Do you understand me?" Another slow nod. "Do you know who I am?" He did. And then, all the usual questions. "Do you know where you are?" Yes. "Are you in pain?" No. "Is there anything you need right now?"  
  
Luka seemed to have to think about that one for a moment, then he motioned for pencil and paper. And Abby relaxed a little. He _was_ doing ok. He was just tired and confused. Perfectly normal after what he'd been through. She found a pad and paper and handed it to him. While he struggled to write, she said again, "You're going to be ok now." He didn't seem to be paying much attention, he was concentrating on trying to write. He showed her the paper. One word. 'Home.'  
  
She smiled at him. "Soon, Luka. In a few days."  
  
But Luka shook his head, added another word to the paper. "Was home."  
  
"You don't ..." Abby bit back the question and tried again. "Do you remember what happened?"  
  
His hand shook a little now. 'Shot.'  
  
"Yeah. A couple of weeks ago. You don't remember coming back in?" Luka shook his head. "Waking up in the ER?" Another no. Abby made herself smile again, resolutely pushed back the worry that was returning again. "Ok. Don't worry about it. You had an embolism, you collapsed at home. The ambulance brought you in. Things were rough at first, but you're doing a lot better now."  
  
Luka ripped off the page, started a fresh one. 'When?'  
  
"Yesterday. It's ok that you don't remember. You've been sleeping."  
  
'What day?' Luka wrote. And again, Abby tried to think positively. He was much more alert than he'd been just a few minutes ago. He seemed to understand what was happening, was communicating as well as he could under the circumstances. It _was_ normal that he wouldn't remember coming in; it was even normal that he wouldn't remember things that had happened several hours before that. He was going to be fine.  
  
"It's Saturday now, very early in the morning. We brought you in about noon yesterday."  
  
Luka nodded, let the pad fall from his hand, and tried to smile at her. But his eyes still looked scared. Abby could only hope that she was doing a better job of hiding her own fear. Luka let his eyes close again.  
  
"Still tired?" Abby asked. And he nodded again, but didn't open his eyes. "Me too." He did open his eyes again this time, and looked at her for a moment. What was he thinking? "Look, why don't I try to track down a doc and see about getting that tube out. It can't be very comfortable, and I don't think you need it anymore." He didn't. His sats were fine, and he was breathing on his own. But he shook his head, held more tightly to her hand. He didn't want her to leave, that was clear.  
  
"Ok," she said. "Maybe a little later. You get some rest now." She smiled at him one more time, and thought she would close her own eyes for just a moment. They burned with exhaustion. Just for a minute. 


	24. Chapter 24

Dawn was just coming in through the window. The hospital wasn't quiet, it was never _really_ quiet. There were always the footsteps and voices of nurses in the halls, the sounds of monitors the moaning of patients in pain. But there was that underlying stillness that went along with the nighttime hours in a hospital. A stillness that Luka had become too familiar with over the past few nights, lying awake, listening to all those tiny sounds, and to the slow ticking of the clock, and the even slower rhythm of Abby's breathing beside him.

Luka moved the pillow under his head, tried to find a more comfortable position, though the IV made it hard to move as freely as he would like. He usually slept on his stomach, but the wires and lines wouldn't let him do that. Not that it would make much difference. He wouldn't sleep anyway. As he had the past few nights, and the past few weeks, he'd slept for a few hours, but 3 a.m. found him awake again, counting the minutes until morning. He _could_ ring for the nurse, ask for another sleeping pill, but he didn't want to do that. Then he'd just be both awake _and_ groggy, which was even worse.

Abby was asleep, sitting up in the chair beside his bed. She'd hardly left his side for the past 3 days. She'd been there when he'd wakened in the ICU, and she'd been there almost every minute since then, leaving only to use the bathroom, eat, and grab a quick shower and some clean scrubs once a day.

And Luka wasn't sure what to think about that. Oh, he liked her being there. He was glad to see her, glad for this one small bit of stability in a world that had been turned upside down. Funny that she would be, he thought. Of all the words he might use to describe Abby, 'stable' had _never_ been one that came immediately to mind. Had she changed, or had he?

_He_ had certainly changed. There was no question about that. He felt off-balance in ways that he couldn't really explain, couldn't really understand. It wasn't just the lingering illness and pain. It wasn't the fact that he was, again, unbelievably weak and shaky, unable to walk as far as the bathroom without help.

It was, perhaps, the awareness, the shock of learning that he had, once again, nearly died; that being safe from outside dangers couldn't protect him from the vulnerability of his own body. He could still die. In the blink of an eye. The idea of that frightened him, and he hated feeling that way. He didn't want to be afraid.

For so many months he hadn't really cared if he'd lived or died. Life had been just an endless stream of meaningless work shifts treating an endless stream of strangers -- and nights spent in meaningless sex with an even more endless stream of strangers. Nothing to look forward to, nothing to look back on with anything but self disgust. But now he _had_ tasted death, faced death, and learned that it scared him. And he didn't know which was worse, not caring if he died, or being so afraid of it.

But more than that it was the shock of waking up to find that everything _had_ changed. He'd gone to sleep in his own bed, he remembered that; but he'd wakened in the hospital, with a tube in his throat and an entire day just gone from his life.

Before, there had been at least the knowledge that something had happened to him. The shooting, the memories, however dim and confused, of being in the ER, in the ICU, drifting in and of consciousness. But this time there was just a blank. No matter how many times Abby told him what had happened, how much detail she gave him, there was no memory. Not only of the PE itself, of collapsing at home, of talking to her while waiting for the ambulance, of waking in the ER. There was no memory of the entire morning, or even the night before. A night during which, he knew well, he would have been awake for hours.

For some reason, this all bothered Luka in ways that he couldn't seem to cope with. Was it worse to remember, to be haunted by the recollections of pain and fear? Or was it worse to _not_ remember, to have a gap in his life that he knew he would probably never get back.

"It's not worth worrying about," Abby had told him a dozen times now, as he'd grilled her for details about those missing hours, hoping to trigger _something_ in his memory. "It's not like you missed anything you really _want_ to remember, do you?" He knew she was right, but it didn't make it easier.

And maybe this was why, he thought, that despite the pain and weakness and the constant aching tiredness, and the sleeping pill he obediently took at bedtime each night, he still wasn't sleeping. Was it the fear of losing more time? Of waking up to find, again, that everything had changed? That _he_ had changed yet again? Or that this time he wouldn't wake up at all.

Yes, he had changed. Everything had changed. Abby had changed. Luka didn't understand that either. She wouldn't leave him. Before, once he was finally out of danger and awake, she had returned to work, only visiting him in the evenings and on her breaks. But now, though his doctors assured both of them that he was doing well, (and he'd seen his own chart, he knew they were telling the truth), she stayed in his room, making sure he got the best care during the day, and sleeping by his bed at night. And she _did_ sleep. Luka was awake enough himself to know that Abby was sleeping now. He would watch her sleep, glad that she was there, but still uncertain why she was there. She didn't talk about it, and he didn't know how to ask.

Her manner was different too, though it was hard for Luka to put his finger on what it was. The way she looked at him, the way she touched him. She spoke a little more rapidly, the pitch was a little higher. Something that would usually suggest nervousness, but she didn't seem nervous. Quite the reverse. Aside from some clear concern for _his_ health and well being, she seemed happier, more confident than he'd seen her in a long time.

Maybe it was the shock. She must have been frightened, coming home to find him unconscious. A shock that she didn't need after all she had been through herself. That could change a person.

Luka sighed, tried again to find a more comfortable position in bed. He'd been puzzling over this for days now, or, more accurately, for nights. Something to occupy his mind during the long empty hours. He was no closer to finding an answer, but that didn't surprise him. He still didn't understand what had happened to _him_. Could he really expect to understand Abby? He'd never understood Abby.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Abby helped Luka back into bed, and checked to see that the IV hadn't become dislodged, that the tape was still holding the catheter firmly in the vein.

"Why don't you run and get some breakfast," he said. "They'll be bringing mine soon."

"No, I'm fine for a while. Not really hungry."

Luka frowned. "How are you holding up?" She wasn't eating much these days, though that _could _have more to do with the hospital food than her own feelings.

"I'm doing good. I feel great."

"Sleeping in a chair, after a week of sleeping on my couch, that can't be doing much for you."

"Do I look bad? I mean aside from the fact that the shampoo in the showers downstairs does _nothing_ for my hair ..."

"Your hair looks fine. And you look fine. You look beautiful." Those last words just came out, but it was true, she did look beautiful. And Luka couldn't help feeling jealous. He knew that _he_ looked at least as bad as he felt. "I'm just ... wondering ..."

"You just think about yourself. You need to concentrate on getting better."

"I'm trying, Abby."

A tap on the door. That would be his breakfast. No, it was Carter.

"I know it's not visiting hours yet," Carter said, "But I figured you'd be awake, and I've owed you a visit for a few days."

"Yeah, you have," Abby said.

'Ah,' Luka thought. 'And here was where Abby would decide to leave and get her own breakfast.' She wouldn't want to be here with Carter. It was still too awkward for her.

But no, her words were followed by a smile, one that Carter returned. Luka didn't miss the warmth in her eyes. She got up from the chair, but only so she could sit on the bed, making room for Carter.

"Work's been crazy. We're short an attending, you know." Carter threw himself down into the chair.

"Sorry, not my doing," Luka joked back.

"Now Luka," Carter scolded good naturedly, "When I told you last week that I hoped to see you back soon, this _wasn't_ what I meant."

"Sorry," Luka said again. "You should have been more specific. My English isn't so good, you know."

Abby laughed. "So this was all planned? Just to please Carter?"

The atmosphere in the room was comfortable, easy. It was impossible for Luka to not get caught up in the light conversation, the jokes that flowed so easily. Between himself and Carter. And between Abby and Carter. It was impossible for him to _not_ be pleased at how happy Abby appeared to be.

And impossible for him to ignore the realization that was slowly creeping over him. The answer to the question that had been nagging him for so long. This was what had changed about Abby. Carter.

And he wasn't sure what to think about that one either.


	25. Chapter 25

Another cab ride. Another wait for Abby to unlock the front door, while carefully NOT looking at that place beside the door.  
  
But once inside, Luka found himself looking around for some evidence or what had occurred. Afraid to see it, but hoping that maybe it would jog a memory. There was no blood of course. Not this time. But there were some crumpled plastic wrappings, which Luka recognized as the packaging from an IV set up kit. Some gauze pads -- alcohol swabs. His hand went automatically to the spot on his arm where the IV had been. More medical-type litter. And Abby's pillow was on the floor beside the couch. Had she put it beneath his head? Or his feet? Her blanket was in a heap beside it.  
  
Abby noticed him looking at the mess. "I should have come home and cleaned this up," she said apologetically.  
  
Home. Did she realize what she'd just said?  
  
She helped him down the steps from the front door and over to the couch. He was still frighteningly weak. They'd wanted to keep him for a few more days, but Luka wouldn't hear of it. If they didn't discharge him, he would have signed out AMA. He had to get home again. The idea, as illogical as it was, stuck in his mind that the sooner he got home again, the sooner he would be well. Hospitals were for sick people, and as long as he was in the hospital, he _was_ sick.  
  
"Don't worry about it," he told her. "It isn't like anyone's been here to care." She didn't understand why the litter unnverved him so much, and he couldn't tell her. He really _didn't_ want to think about it himself. He wanted to move on, get past it ... get well. He didn't want to think any more about the hard stuff, about the things he couldn't stop remembering, and the things he couldn't remember at all.  
  
Abby began cleaning up the mess, and Luka just sat and watched her for a minute. "Any leads on a new apartment?" he finally asked.  
  
"I haven't had time to look. Ralene says there's an empty unit in my old building, but ..." She shook her head.  
  
"So you're still sure you want to move?"  
  
"Yeah. And I guess I'll need to put my stuff in storage for a while. I figure I'll need to be here for a few more weeks at least ... and if I don't get my stuff out by the middle of next week, I'll have to pay another month's rent."  
  
'Need to be here.' She didn't want to be here, did she? "I'm sorry," Luka said.  
  
"What for?" Truly puzzled.  
  
Luka shrugged. "Taking up so much of your time. This probably wasn't what you signed up for ... what you expected when you first offered to look after me. I _should_ be doing better by now."  
  
"I don't mind. I mean, I wish you were doing better too, but I like feeling useful."  
  
"Still ... maybe it would be better if I just hired a nurse."  
  
"And where am I supposed to go?" Shock and hurt in her voice, in her eyes.  
  
Luka opened his mouth to say "You could stay with Carter," but the words didn't come.  
  
She was happy. He was _glad_ that she was happy. Friends should be happy for one another. And they were friends now. Nothing wrong with being friends. He'd already had the love of his life. And he could have all the sex he wanted, without strings or connections. But friends were in short supply in his life. Luka remembered a coffee mug that one of the other nurses had. A picture of a bird, and the words. 'If you love something set it free.' He'd always thought it rather trite, but now he understood it. He had let Abby go, and she hadn't come back to him. Carter had let her go, and she _had_ returned to _him_. There was no sense in pining for something he couldn't have. Better to focus on what he _could_ have. If he wanted to move on, he had to be able to do that. No more looking back.  
  
"Luka?" Abby was looking at him expectantly, and a little bit worried. He'd been silent for too long, lost in thought. She still worried about him, he knew. He needed to say something.  
  
"You could ... ummm ... go back to Susan's." As the worried look turned back to hurt he said quickly. "Of course you're welcome to stay as long as you want. I'm just ... I don't want things to get awkward. Maybe I could be paying you for your time." What _did_ Carter think about all of this? Carter had to know that Abby was staying here.  
  
"Don't be silly. I still have lots of vacation time, and you're putting me up, feeding me ... and I can always pick up some extra shifts once I go back, if I need to."  
  
"So you don't think this is ... _awkward_?"  
  
"No. It doesn't have to be, if we don't let it. I like being here. I want to be here. With you."  
  
Luka looked up sharply. Something in her tone startled him, but she had her back to him, she was throwing away the trash in the kitchen. And when she turned again, her face betrayed nothing. A long silence, then she went on, "You aren't throwing me out, are you?"  
  
"No, of course not. I said you could stay and I meant it. As long as you want. As long as I ... need you."  
  
"You blame me, don't you? For what happened?" Again, the hurt, the confusion. He didn't want to be hurting her.  
  
"You didn't make the PE happen."  
  
"But I wasn't there when it did. You could have died." She rejoined him on the couch.  
  
"But I didn't. You got me to the hospital. You saved my life, Abby."  
  
Again, silence. Abby couldn't seem to think of anything to say to that.  
  
Guilt. That was it. She blamed herself, expected that he would blame her too. She was staying because of guilt, nothing more. When she'd paid off that debt, she leave again, and return to Carter. And he _would _move on.  
  
---------------  
  
Abby got up to put the supper dishes in the sink. They hadn't talked much over the meal. Luka was too tired to keep up his end of a conversation. "You look tired," Abby said, stating the obvious.  
  
"This surprises you? It hasn't been a good week."  
  
No, it hasn't," Abby agreed. "You think you'll be able to sleep tonight?"  
  
Luka shrugged. "I think I'm tired enough." She still didn't know that he wasn't sleeping, and he wasn't going to tell her. "In fact, I think I'll go to bed now." It was early, but if he went now, he might actually get a few hours in before his usual 3 a.m. awakening.  
  
"That sounds like a good idea. Need help?"  
  
"No." A lie. The bedroom door was a long ways away, and he _was_ tired. But he didn't want Abby helping him. Somehow, the idea of that was bothering him more and more. He needed to be getting better, so they could both get back to their lives.  
  
The couch was closer. He made it there and sat down. He'd rest here for a while, _then_ he'd go to bed. Abby joined him, moving her blanket and pillow so she could sit. Luka sat for a minute with his eyes closed. Abby didn't say anything. Did she think he'd fallen asleep? When he opened his eyes again, Abby was fingering the fringe on the blanket, biting her lip.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked.  
  
"Nothing. I was just thinking .... Maybe I should sleep in your bed." She didn't look at him.  
  
"And I sleep on the couch?" The idea wasn't unappealing if it meant he didn't have to stand up again.  
  
"No. We both ..."  
  
"Not a good idea," Luka interrupted firmly.  
  
"I'm not ... expecting anything ..." Abby said. "And I don't want you to get the wrong idea. But the couch _isn't_ very comfortable ..."  
  
"Beats the chair in the ICU."  
  
"Not by much. Mostly I just want to keep an eye on you ... make sure you're ok."  
  
"That isn't necessary. And it's just a really bad idea."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Carter comes to mind."  
  
A baffled look from Abby. "Carter?"  
  
Luka felt about as confused as Abby appeared to be. "I don't think he'd like it very much, do you?"  
  
"I don't think he has anything to say about it."  
  
Luka shook his head. The conversation was growing increasingly surreal ... or maybe he was even more tired than he thought, and this was actually a perfectly rational conversation. "But you and Carter ..."  
  
"Are history," Abby said firmly. Then she frowned, and Luka saw the too familiar worried look in her eyes. "You remember that, don't you? You remember me telling you?"  
  
"You were having problems ... you said you thought it was over . but you weren't sure yet. And then yesterday, everything seemed so good between you. You were so happy, so comfortable ...I thought you'd worked things out. And I was happy for you, Abby. I really was."  
  
A smile from Abby. "We _did_ work things out, Luka. And we're friends now. We realized that we make lousy lovers, but we can do well as friends. We're a lot happier that way."  
  
"Just like us?" Luka said softly.  
  
"Yeah. Like us." Another quick smile, and she bit her lip again, began to braid the fringe on the afghan. She didn't look at him. "It's funny ... the whole time Carter and I have known each other ... there was this ... stress ... like a cloud over us. He was attracted to me ... God knows why ... and he never made any secret of it. We couldn't be friends, we couldn't just let things go along, because we were always wondering ... waiting for something to happen between us. I think _I_ always knew that we weren't meant for each other, but he seemed so sure, and I figured that if _he_ was sure, maybe I was wrong, maybe I just had to wait for the right time. Maybe one morning I'd wake up and realize that he was the man I'd been waiting my whole life for." She chuckled a little. "But that morning never happened. Even when we _were_ together, I kept waiting for it to happen ... and it never did. And I think Carter knew it too, he knew we weren't meant to be. That I wasn't the person he was looking for ... the person he thought I was.  
  
"And now ... we're past all that. We both know it's over. We can go back to the beginning, try again as friends. And the cloud is gone. I'm listening to my heart ... for the first time in my life, I think. I'm doing what I know is right for me, and it feels good." Another smile. "It's weird, but even with all that's happened in these last few weeks, I think I'm happier now than I've been in a long time. Maybe ever. I'm ready to go forward, dump all the baggage and go on. And it feels _really_ good."  
  
A sigh and a small shake of the head. "I'm sorry, Luka. You're exhausted, and I'm babbling."  
  
Luka _was_ exhausted, but he managed to smile. "It's ok. I'm glad ... not that it's over for the two of you, but that you're happy."  
  
"Still, you need to go to bed. We can talk about this more tomorrow."  
  
"Yeah. We will." Luka let Abby help him to his feet and guide him to the bedroom. She got his shoes off, brought him his medications, and helped him lie down. He was too tired to undress, and barely heard her bid him good-night before he was asleep.

----------------

He half wakened, feeling the slight jar of the bed as someone slid in beside him. He smelled the familiar, faint scent of Abby's shampoo and his own soap. She didn't say anything. She didn't touch him. And he was quickly asleep again.  
  
When he next opened his eyes, sunshine was coming in through the window. The other side of the bed was empty. Perhaps he'd only dreamt it. 


	26. Chapter 26

'We'll talk about it tomorrow,' she had said, and Luka had agreed. But they hadn't talked about it.  
  
Did Luka even know that she was sleeping in his bed now? He was always already asleep when she went to bed, and always still asleep when she got up in the morning. And the bed was big enough that there was always space between them, they never touched.  
  
Of course he had to know. She'd moved her suitcase of clothes into the bedroom, and the bedding was no longer on the couch. There was simply no way that he _could_ be unaware that she'd been sharing his bed for the past three nights. So they didn't talk about it. There was nothing to say.  
  
Sometimes, during the day, she'd see him looking at her, looking like he wanted to say something. But then he'd catch her looking at _him_, and avert his eyes.  
  
It was just as well. There really _was_ nothing to say. Luka didn't want her anymore, that much was obvious. Not that she could blame him. She'd hurt him too many times already. Why would he he set himself up for more pain, more hurt? He didn't need more pain in his life right now. He talked a lot about their friendship, how nice it was that they could be friends, and that she and Carter were friends. He looked at the rental ads for her, pointing out likely apartments. He wanted her out, that was all to clear. Still, he didn't seem to _object_ to her being in his bed. Or, if he did, he was too polite to say anything  
  
And she liked being there. Her own feelings were much less clear to her than Luka's, but Abby liked sleeping beside him. It made her feel safe somehow, though she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was just the reassurance of knowing that _Luka_ was doing well, knowing that if anything went wrong, she'd be close by. And just being there was enough. She didn't want anything more.  
  
She was happy, _that_ was clear to her. But why? Because she was with Luka? Because, at least for the moment, he needed her? Because she'd let go of a dead-end relationship? Abby was almost afraid to delve too deeply into it. Afraid that if she did, she might spoil it? Might learn that happiness, like love, was something she just didn't understand, had never really experienced before. That perhaps this wasn't happiness at all.  
  
Abby sighed and looked at her watch. She should check on Luka. She was still uneasy when he was out of her sight, however illogical she knew it was. He was doing well, taking his meds. No reason to think the PE would recur, and nothing else was likely to go wrong this far into the post-operative course. Abby had heard about mothers who would go into their baby's rooms a dozen times a night, just to reassure themselves that the baby was breathing. She'd always thought that rather silly, but now she knew how they felt. Except, of course, Luka was a grown man. A grown man who she knew hated being fussed over. He didn't want her to worry, but she couldn't help worrying. So she checked on him often, but only when she was sure he was asleep.  
  
She stood in the doorway for a moment, looking at him in the light from the bathroom. His back was to her, and his arm was thrown over his face so she couldnt' really see him. But she could see him breathing, and that made her feel better, made _her_ breathe a little easier.  
  
After a minute she went into the bedroom and found a pair of pajamas in her suitcase and went into the bathroom to change and ready herself for bed. Brushing her teeth, she paused to contemplate her reflection in the mirror. She looked better. She wasn't so pale, the dark circles were gone from beneath her eyes. The stitches had come out long ago, and the cut on her cheek was only a faint red line now. Her wrist was no longer swollen, and didn't bother her anymore.  
  
'_You are beautiful_,' Luka had said. An exaggeration, perhaps, but she was doing better, looking better. She was healed, or healing anyway. Ready to move on, leave the past behind her. But where was she going? She knew what she was leaving behind, but what lay ahead for her? Would she know when she got there?  
  
Abby started to switch off the bathroom light so she could go to bed herself, then paused. Luka had rolled over in his sleep, she could see his face now. On impulse she left the light on and got quietly into bed beside him. He looked better too. More color in his face, and less pain in his expression. He still moved very slowly, using the furniture for balance checks as he made his way around the apartment, but he was starting to regain his strength. How much longer before he no longer needed her? How much longer before she'd no longer have an excuse to stay here?  
  
She touched his face gently, checking for a fever, she told herself, though she knew it was a lie. She just wanted to touch him. His skin was cool and dry, just as it should be. He stirred slightly. Perhaps he was dreaming. Of _her_?  
  
Abby shook her head. This was crazy. He didn't want her. And she knew better than to want him again. They'd been around this too many times. But they always seemed to end up together. Maybe this time _would_ be different. They were different people now.  
  
"Where are we going?" Abby didn't realize that she'd spoken the words aloud until Luka stirred again, opened his eyes. "I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered quickly. "Go back to sleep." Luka just looked at her. He looked confused. Maybe he _hadn't_ realized she was sleeping in his bed. Or maybe he just wasn't quite awake.  
  
He reached up and touched her face, as she had just touched his, then his hand dropped to rest on her arm. He still looked at her. Maybe he thought he was dreaming.  
  
"Abby...." A little husky. Then his grip tightened on her arm, and he pulled her towards him. Down.  
  
Abby was startled. A fleeting instant of panic. She wasn't expecting this, wasn't ready for this. She felt herself pull back, instinctively. And Luka pulled harder. What was he doing? Was he even aware? His eyes were shut again.  
  
The panic left as quickly as it had come. He just wanted to hold her, of course. Even if it was just in his dreams. He couldn't possibly have the strength for more than that. And what did _she_ want .... God ... she wanted to be held. Needed to be held.  
  
She let him draw her down onto the bed, felt his arms go around her, felt the warmth and security of his embrace. And that was all. He relaxed again, seemed to be asleep once more. Probably hadn't been really awake at all. She relaxed in his arms, tried to fall asleep herself. She let her lips brush against the skin of his bare shoulder and closed her eyes. Then a hand beneath her chin, tilting her head upwards. To look at her? No. Luka's lips were on hers, very gently. 'It should be kisses...' and it was. Tender, gentle kisses, tongues just touching, his hands in her hair. Then his lips left hers to brush along her cheek, her ear, her neck. And again, nothing more. He lay still again, though his hand continued to stroke her hair. He was still awake.  
  
Abby felt that she should say something, but she couldn't think of anything to say. And there were, perhaps, better uses for her lips. She kissed him again, still gently. His eyes opened and he looked at her for a moment ... perhaps he was wondering if he _was_ dreaming? Abby wanted to laugh, but she didn't.  
  
And then she almost gasped as his arms tightened around her, pulling her closer, and his mouth was suddenly insistent ... urgent ... hungry. His hand left her hair and moved down along her neck, her shoulders, to the curve of her back. Under her pajama top to rest on the bare skin at her waist. It stopped there. He pulled his lips from hers and looked at her again, anxious, worried that he had hurt her, perhaps. "It's ok?" he whispered.  
  
"Yes, ... very ok." Abby smiled at him. He didn't smile back, but began to undo the buttons on her pajama top, his hands trembling a little.  
  
Abby was trembling too. Her thoughts were a whirlwind ... a dozen different emotions battling within her. Even as she'd said yes, and meant it with all of her heart, she knew that she shouldn't be doing this. _They_ shouldn't be doing this. It was too soon. Too soon for him; he was still sick, still weak, barely 3 weeks post-op. Too soon for her ... was she ready for this again? Ready for sex at all? Ready to jump into a new relationship? And much too soon for them.  
  
But she couldn't say no. She wanted this ... needed it in a way that she'd never felt before.  
  
It wasn't physical desire. Even as Luka undressed her, as he touched her, as they caressed each other with the confidence of two people who had been lovers for a long time, each one knowing what the other liked ... even as she enjoyed the physical sensations he awakened in her ... the need she felt was different. The arousal seemed unimportant. Abby wanted to be close to him, she couldn't get close enough. He couldn't hold her tightly enough. She wanted him inside of her because _that_ was two people being as close together as they could be. Two bodies joined.  
  
The intensity of her feelings frightened her a little, even as she surrendered to them. She'd never felt like this before. Could _this_ be what love was all about? The love she'd never felt before? Abby pushed the thoughts away. Better to not analyze her feelings too much. Better to just let them be.  
  
She pulled his lips from his again for a moment ... looked into his eyes. "Now ... please ..." she murmured. And he smiled at her, but something in his eyes, some reflection of her own emotions ... her own need, her own fear ... made her tremble a little.  
  
---------  
  
Luka was asleep. They still held onto each other, wrapped in each other's arms. Her head rested in the curve of his throat. They fit together perfectly, she thought. Despite the difference in their sizes, their bodies seemed to be made for each other. Each curve, each hollow a perfect match. Like two pieces of a puzzle. Luka's hand still rested in the small of her back, her leg was still thrown over his.  
  
They hadn't wanted to separate. When they were done, neither had wanted to move. He'd just whispered her name again, kissed her again, held her a little more tightly, and then fallen asleep.  
  
He'd said her name many times, and she his, but besides that, they hadn't talked. There had been nothing to say. Their bodies had said it all.  
  
Abby suddenly remembered back ... a little more than two years ago. Their first time. She had gone to his hotel room, knowing he was in pain, and hoping to be able to help. 'You don't have to talk,' she had said, and he hadn't. She had offered herself to him, let him find healing in her touch, in her body. Helped him to remember ... or, perhaps, learn for the first time, that love and life were more powerful than death and pain.  
  
She had given herself to him, and he had taken her, with a passion and a hunger that she hadn't understood. It had frightened her. But now she did understand; it was the same need that she had felt tonight. The need for touching, for closeness, for healing. A need that transcended desire, had nothing to do with passion. Even love. She had felt it tonight, and so had Luka. Two lost souls, floundering, in pain, afraid. Finding what they needed in each other.  
  
There had been a little moisture around Luka's eyes as he'd clung to her. She had thought it was pain and fatigue ... it _was_ too soon, even their rather slow and gentle lovemaking, lying side by side, had been tiring for him. But now she realized that the tears had flowed from the different source. The same source as her own tears.  
  
Abby settled closer into Luka's arms, wiped her eyes. With her head resting against his shoulder she could hear his heartbeat, and the quiet sound of his breathing. Closing her eyes, she let them lull her into sleep. 


	27. Chapter 27

_A/N Sorry for the very long delay on this one. No excuse but pure laziness on my part. I was having trouble wrapping my brain around the chapter, and wasn't willing to put out the effort. Once I did find what I wanted, it came quickly. (With more than a little help from my beta.) Enjoy. (BTW, again, there are references to "Ice" in this one. If you haven't read it, do so.) _

_---------------------_

Luka opened his eyes. He lay in a tangle of sheets, alone in the bed. Sunshine coming through the window at a steep angle told him he'd slept quite late. 10:18, according to the clock. 

A smile crossed his face, then faded again, as he remembered last night. Pleasure and pain. Joy and uncertainty.

He hadn't known what to think. For three nights Abby had slept in his bed, never touching him, never even near him. She didn't want sex. She didn't want a relationship. She'd made that quite clear from the start. He didn't quite understand _why_ she insisted on sharing his bed, but if it made her feel better to sleep there, he was happy to have her there. He wanted her to be happy.

Of course she hadn't wanted sex. Her last experience with sex had been violence ... brutality. Rape. It would take her time to get past that. And the last time _they_ had had sex had been a nightmare in a different way. Too much alcohol, a few moments of passion, then the blame ... the anger ... the silence. They'd gotten past _that_, but it hadn't been easy.

Of course she didn't want a relationship either, at least not with him. She'd just finished a relationship, she wasn't going to want to rush into another, especially one that had already failed. Why should she ever want to return to him ... to more heartache? He wouldn't rush her, wouldn't push her into anything. If, someday she wanted him again, he'd be there, but he wasn't going to hold his breath. He'd had enough heartache too.

But last night he had found her, somehow, in his arms. How she'd gotten there was hazy, one more thing he couldn't quite remember. He'd wakened from sleep to find her hair brushing against his face as she'd kissed him ... or he'd kissed her; the taste of her toothpaste on his lips, the scent of her overwhelming him. Choking him, arousing him, awakening him. Awakening memories. He remembered saying her name, barely able to get it out past the lump in his throat. And then they were holding each other. Touching each other. Needing each other. Needing something that Luka couldn't quite understand, something more than sex, different than sex. It hadn't been sex. It hadn't been love-making. It had been something else.

He still hadn't known what to think, so he hadn't thought at all.

It had been ... strange. Moments of hesitancy, of nervousness … almost shyness ... of pain, physical and emotional; and then moments of passion so overwhelming that he could scarcely breathe. He'd made love with Abby dozens of times before, and it had never been like that. Not with Abby, and certainly not with the countless nameless women he'd slept with over the past few months.

No, the only time he could remember feeling like that, even a little bit, had been with Danijela ... on their wedding night. Both eager, both wanting each other, but not sure quite what to expect. He'd been a little afraid that night, of his own feelings, and of hurting her. 'Don't expect too much. From yourself _or_ from her,' Tata had told him. He'd never actually _told_ Tata that they were waiting ... but he'd known somehow. Tata knew him too well, and knew Dani too. 'Just be slow and gentle. It will get better.' But it hadn't. Oh, later nights had been more confident, more skillful, but none were better. Nothing could be better than two bodies opening to each other, to match two hearts that were already open. Two souls that were already joined. Love taking them places they didn't really understand, but didn't have to understand. They were together, and, at that moment, nothing else mattered.

But still, that had been Danijela. This was Abby. Two very different situations. And two _very_ different women. As different as day and night. Dani had been daylight, sunshine -- the light of his life. They'd understood each other perfectly, known each other perfectly. No secrets, no shadows. Abby was nighttime. Beautiful where the moonlight touched her, but mysterious. Full of dark corners and shadows. Hidden obstacles just waiting to trip him up if he didn't watch his step, if he moved too fast.

Last night had been perfect in it's own way, but now it was morning. Would this morning be a replay of the last time? Would the next step be denial? Regret? Anger?

Abby had gotten up long before. He could hear nothing from the other room. Perhaps she'd left. Perhaps she couldn't face him in the light of day. But no, her suitcase was still here. She hadn't _moved_ out, but maybe she'd gone to store, or to work.

Well ... he'd have to face her, or not, eventually. Slowly he got out of bed and found his clothes. A deep breath, and he opened the bedroom door.

Abby was sitting on the couch, in her pajamas eating her breakfast and reading the paper. She looked ... rumpled ... in a pleasantly morning-after sort of way. Luka couldn't help smiling again. A smile that she returned. Was it genuine? Luka wasn't sure.

"I was wondering when you were going to get up. There's coffee if you want it."

Luka shuffled to the stove. He was still more than a bit shaky. "How long have you been up?"

"About an hour." She jumped up and headed for the kitchen. "Sit down. I'll get you some breakfast."

"I can do it," Luka protested. He'd already poured the coffee. He was still weak, but he could make his own breakfast.

"No. That's what I'm here for, remember?"

Of course. She was back to being his nurse, his helper. His friend. Luka sipped his coffee and watched Abby bustle around his kitchen, making toast and pouring cereal for him. She chatted about something from the paper, but Luka wasn't really listening. All that mattered was that she didn't seem to want to talk about it. Was she going to forget it? Pretend it hadn't happened? Maybe this was better than bitterness and accusations, but maybe not.

"Abby," Luka interrupted firmly. "Last night ..." Then he wasn't sure what to say. Maybe Abby wasn't talking about it because there _was_ nothing to say. He saw a flicker of something ... worry, perhaps, in her eyes, then she turned her back and continued working on his breakfast. She didn't say anything.

It hadn't been good for her. He hadn't satisfied her, he remembered that now. He hadn't been gentle enough, patient enough. And when _he_ was done he'd fallen asleep. So she wouldn't want to talk about it. She was disappointed of course. She'd expected more of him ... _he_ expected more. For all his failings, for all their problems together, this was one thing he could always do, one area where _they_ could always connect. Maybe it was best to forget it. As long as she wasn't angry, maybe that was the best he could hope for.

But no. They had to talk about it. At least make sure she was ok. Had she really wanted it, or had he dreamed that part? A deep breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to rush you ... or push you." And, at the same moment, Abby blurted out, "It was probably too soon for you, Luka. I'm sorry." And both laughed, a bit nervously.

"You did wear me out," Luka admitted, smiling into his coffee. "I guess that's why I slept so late this morning. But it was ... ok ... for you?"

"It was fine," Abby said, then laughed again and shook her head. "No. It was wonderful. It was exactly what I needed." She put his breakfast in front of him and sat down across the table.

"That's good ... I'm glad. I wasn't sure what you wanted." Luka kept his eyes on the plate, couldn't lose the nervous smile, stumbled over his words. "I know we've talked about this so many times, and you always said ... you never ..."

"I was wrong before." Abby's response was quick and firm. "I don't know how I could have been so wrong, for so long."

Luka looked up quickly, just in time to see Abby look away again. The certainty of her words betrayed by her body language. Luka knew that _he_ was a person who wore his heart on his sleeve. But Abby was so hard to read. He wasn't sure what to say. He wanted to hold on to _her_ words. If he said anything, she might say something he didn't want to hear. Might break the spell.

"But what do _you_ want?" Abby finally said, when the silence had stretched on too long.

The question caught him by surprise. How could she ask that? How could she not know? But, of course she was asking. His personal life these past few months had been no secret around the hospital. And these past few weeks he'd been trying to so hard to not push her, not pressure her, that he'd been pushing her away. Did she think she was just another one night stand? A reasonable assumption, all things considered.

"I want ..." God ... what _did_ he want? "I want whatever makes you happy, Abby. I just want you to be happy."

"Coward." A quick smile, which sparkled in her eyes. She was so beautiful when she smiled.

And the words came in a flood."I want you. I've wanted you, I've been waiting for you for so long. I don't want to rush into anything, I know ... it won't be easy for us ... but I want to try again."

"I think we already are," Abby said softly. "We have been for a few weeks. Even if we didn't quite know it." And she leaned across the table and kissed him again. A kiss that, in the light of day, tasted of strawberry jam.


	28. Chapter 28

Abby looked around the apartment and shuddered a little. She still didn't want to be here; would have given just about anything to not be here. But the movers wouldn't pack her stuff, and they wouldn't take it to the storage facility unless she was here.  
  
So here she was. Packing up boxes of books and pots and dishes to put in a suburban storage shed. Tossing spoiled food from the fridge. And putting clothes and papers and valued possessions into grocery bags to take to Luka's.  
  
They _weren't_ living together. They hadn't talked that far ahead. But she knew she wasn't coming back here, so why pay another month's rent for an apartment she would never inhabit again? Wherever she eventually ended up, it wouldn't be here.  
  
It had been three days. And three nights. They still slept together, held each other. But that was all. 'I'm not quite recovered from last night,' Luka had said the next day, softening his words with a smile. 'I'll let you know when I'm ready.' And he'd kissed her and gone to sleep. Which was fine with Abby. She wasn't really ready either. That night had been therapeutic ... healing .. for both of them, but she knew they shouldn't rush into anything more. They'd rushed into it the first time, and that had been a mistake. They'd take it slow.  
  
Abby sealed up a box and glanced at her watch. Nearly noon. She should call Luka, check that he was ok. She'd been uneasy about leaving him alone and, in fact, he'd offered to come with her. But she had refused. "You wouldn't be much hellp," she had told him. 'You'd just be under foot." But it was more than that. She didn't want him here. She wasn't sure how _she_ would react to being here, and if she fell apart (and she had ... just a little ...) she _didn't_ want an audience.  
  
A knock on the door. That couldn't be the movers already. They weren't due until 3, and besides, they would have rung the bell downstairs. Abby surveyed the mess in the living room and sighed. She hated moving. Which was probably why she'd come back here the first time. It was easier than packing and moving all her stuff.  
  
"Who is it?" she called.  
  
"It's Ralene!"  
  
Abby struggled to her feet, dusted herself off, and opened the door. "I'm kind of busy, Ralene."  
  
A bright smile from her soon-to-be-former-downstairs-neighbor. "I thought I heard your stereo playing. It's been ages since you've been here. I'm glad ...." Ralene stepped into the apartment, not waiting for an invitation and looked around. "Oh Abby, are you moving?"  
  
"I told you I was."  
  
"Yeah, but I didn't think you meant it."  
  
"I can't live here anymore." Abby's voice was firm.  
  
"You won't be any safer anywhere else."  
  
"It's not about being safe."  
  
"Then what?" Ralene took a pile of books from the couch and dropped them on the floor, then sat down.  
  
Abby just shook her head. "I can't explain it. Just be glad you don't understand."  
  
"You found something nice? A new apartment?"  
  
"No, not yet. I haven't looked." Abby began to pack another box.  
  
"So where are you ..."  
  
"I'm still staying with Luka."  
  
"Oh!" Ralene's eyes widened. "Wow."  
  
"It's not like that." Somehow Abby didn't feel like trying to explain. She wasn't ready to try to explain it to anyone, and definitely not Ralene.  
  
"Oh, really?" Ralene looked dubious.  
  
"Yes, really. I just don't want to pay another month's rent if I don't have to. Luka still needs me there to help him for a few more weeks. I'll put my stuff in storage and start looking for a new place so when he's ready to manage alone, I'll be ready to move."  
  
"Where is he now?"  
  
"Home. He wouldn't be much help, he's not up to physical labor yet." She gave Ralene a pointed look. "He's not strong and healthy like _some_ people." Grabbing another stack of books from beside Ralene, she began to fit them into another box. She'd never realized how much _stuff_ she had.  
  
Ralene frowned. "How long is this going to take?"  
  
"Movers are coming at 3 to take most of this to a storage place in Arlington Heights. Susan's coming around 7:30 to help me bring the rest of it over to Luka's."  
  
"And he's going to be alone all that time?" Ralene's eyes widened.  
  
"I'm calling every couple of hours, He's fine."  
  
"He still shouldn't be alone Abby, and _you_ shouldn't have to be stopping your work to call all the time. Why don't I go over there? I can look after him, make his meals, make sure he's ok."  
  
Abby looked up quickly from her work. Ralene was smiling again, but that was usual for her. Besides that, it was hard to tell what she was thinking.  
  
"I'm sure you have better things to do with your afternoon."  
  
"No, I don't. I'm not working today ... it was a use-it-or-lose-it vacation day. I'd help you pack, Abby, but I'm really no good at that sort of thing."  
  
Abby sighed and looked around the room again. She had a ton of work to do in the next three hours, and she wasn't going to get rid of Ralene any other way. And she was right. Luka _really_ shouldn't be alone this long. If this would kill two birds with one stone ....  
  
"Fine. Go on over. Make sure he takes his meds at lunch and dinner, and at bedtime if I'm not back yet. And don't let him sit too long. He needs to get up and walk around every hour or so. And call me if anything worries you. Don't let him put you off."  
  
"He's better, isn't he?"  
  
"He's getting there, yeah."  
  
Ralene stood up. "Ok. I'll see you later. Around 9, probably?"  
  
"Yeah, somewhere around there." Abby grabbed a couple of bags of clothes. "Here, take these with you, would you?"  
  
As soon as the door closed behind Ralene, Abby took her cell phone from the table and dialed Luka's number. It rang. And rang. On the fifth ring the machine picked up and Abby felt panic start to rise in her as Luka's recorded voice spoke. "Hi. I'm not home right now ..." Then a click and the same voice again, "Hello."  
  
"God ... you scared me half to death, Luka!"  
  
"Sorry. I was in the bathroom. I'm fine, Abby."  
  
"Lonely?"  
  
"A little, yeah." She could hear the smile in his voice.  
  
"Well, you're in luck. I'm sending you company."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Ralene."  
  
"Oh Abby ... no ..." A groan this time.  
  
"She's harmless. And you really _shouldn't_ be alone all day."  
  
"I don't need a baby-sitter. What's going to happen?"  
  
"You know what can happen. Anyway, you're stuck. She's on her way over already. She wanted to help, Luka. She's been so much help to me already, and I just couldn't tell her no. Give her a chance. She really is nice, just takes getting used to."  
  
"I'd rather _not _ get used to her, but ok. If it makes you happy."

----------------  
  
Abby looked around the apartment. Empty now except for a dozen or so boxes and bags of clothes and papers and _stuff_. It would be nice to not have to wash and wear the same few changes of clothes over and over again.  
  
Everything else was now comfortably in storage, and she just had to wait for Susan to show up. 'You just love me for my car,' Susan had joked.  
  
Abby sat on the floor and leaned against the wall. She was tired. It would be good to get this finished and go to bed. She reached over to tie the top of the nearest grocery bag. A packet of photographs poked out the top and, on impulse, Abby took it out and began to look through them. Pictures from last fall. Carter. Her and Carter. Eric and his girlfriend. And yes, one of Luka. She didn't remember taking that one. It was from the Christmas party. Someone else must have picked up her camera and taken it.  
  
Abby found herself studying the picture. The expression on his face. The pain in his eyes. How could she have missed it? Even then she had considered Luka a friend, so how could she have not seen it? 'You don't look happy,' he'd said to her that night. He hadn't been happy either, she'd known that. But she hadn't realized just _how_ unhappy. The whispers around work, the gossip about his private life. She'd done her best to ignore it. Maybe to avoid having to face just how unhappy he was. How unhappy she had made him.  
  
The next picture. Carter and Eric. The night they'd all gone out to dinner. The night Eric had begun to spiral downward. She'd missed that one too. Three men in her life, and she'd failed all of them in one way or another.  
  
She was a nurse. She worked with people every day. She knew how to 'read' people. It was such an important part of her job, at least as important as being able to take a blood pressure or start an IV. The ability to sense when something was wrong. To hear what her patients were _really_ telling her, beyond the words they spoke. And to act on what she learned. She hadn't done that for Eric. Or Luka. Or Carter. Or even herself. Was she too close to these people to have seen what should have been obvious? Or had she just not let herself see it?  
  
It was too late for Eric. She didn't know where he was now. It was too late for Carter .... the year he had wasted with her was a year he could never get back. And for Luka? For herself? Who could say.  
  
"You ready to go?" Susan walked through the open apartment door.  
  
"Yeah. Can you get all this in your car?" Abby quickly replaced the packet of photos and tied the bag shut.  
  
"I think so. We may have to tie _you_ to the roof, but it should all fit." A smile. "So, I was right?"  
  
"About what?"  
  
"My radar. You and Luka."  
  
"I don't know," Abby admitted. "I still don't know ... things are still kind of weird right now."  
  
"My life should be so weird."  
  
Abby laughed, more at the look on Susan's face than at her words. "What do you mean?"  
  
A shrug. "In the year and a half since I've been back, you'd just broken up with Luka after a long relationship, had another long one with Carter, and are now back with Luka again. In that same time period _my_ relationships have consisted of a two month ... relationship ... with Carter that would have made a nice junior high romance novel for all the passion it generated; a 'marriage' where we were together for less than 2 days, and which will be over as soon as the annulment papers go through, and a teenage boy with testicular cancer."  
  
Abby stared. "You and Sean ..."  
  
"No! No!" Susan laughed again. "He did kiss me once though." She looked down and shook her head. "I'm jealous. What can I say?"  
  
"Don't be jealous. Celibacy has it's good points."  
  
"Oh yeah? Name one?"  
  
"It's _much_ less complicated."  
  
"That's true." A sigh. "Come on. Don't want to keep Luka waiting."


	29. Chapter 29

Sorry it took me SOO long to get this one up. The next one WILL be sooner, and I thank you for your patience as I struggle with the chapters necessary to get the story to its end.

-------------

He had been looking forward to an afternoon alone. He loved Abby's company, but they needed time apart, time to decompress. He'd been grateful that she'd turned down his offer to come with her and help pack. He would have just been in the way, and they both knew it.  
  
But now she was sending Ralene over to keep him company. To babysit. He'd only met Ralene briefly a couple of times, when she'd brought Abby's mail over. Those brief visits were sufficient for him to know that an afternoon with Ralene would _not_ be fun. Oh well; like Abby he could fake happiness if he had to. Or least fake gracious hospitality.  
  
The doorbell rang and Luka buzzed her in. It would be Ralene, of course. He wasn't expecting anyone else. He opened the door and saw her climbing the stairs. The familiar ponytail. The familiar smile. And when, she greeted him with a cheerful, "Hi, Luka!" the familiar breathless tone of voice that made Luka want to put a pulse-ox probe on her finger ... just to be safe.  
  
"Abby told you I was coming?" she asked.  
  
"Yes, she did. But you don't have to stay. I'm really doing great, and I'm sure you have better things to do today."  
  
"Don't be silly! My calendar is bare and I'm always happy to help Abby anyway I can. And really ... anything could happen, couldn't it? Anything! When I think what happened last time ... oh, I get chills, Luka. If something went wrong and I wasn't here ... nobody was here ... oh, I'd never forgive myself."  
  
Luka realized that he was standing in the doorway, blocking Ralene's access to the apartment. Though she could have ducked under his arm if she really wanted to.  
  
He stepped back. "Come on in, Ralene," he said with a barely concealed sigh. She pushed past him into the apartment.  
  
"Abby still worries about you so much, and so do I."  
  
Luka opened his mouth to reply, to assure her again that he was fine, there was no cause for worry. But Ralene was still talking rapidly. "I just love this apartment! I can see why Abby's in no rush to move out. It's _sooo_ much nicer than our building. I'll bet your plumbing actually works too, doesn't it?  
  
Luka smiled. He couldn't help it. Her cheerful energy was rather endearing in its own way. And he certainly didn't have to worry about her oxygen level. She'd been talking continuously since she arrived, not even pausing for breath, and wasn't showing the slightest hint of hypoxia. Ralene, apparently, didn't need oxygen. She made Luka think of the Energizer Bunny. Maybe she ran on batteries. And ran, and ran, and ran.  
  
As if on cue, Ralene stopped for breath and smiled at him. "I'm sorry. I know I'm babbling."  
  
"It's ok," Luka said.  
  
"Really ... I'm not usually like this. But I don't get much chance to talk to people. I live alone, and with Abby gone now I don't even have neighbors to talk to. At work I spend 8 hours in a cubical with a computer, so when I finally _do_ get a chance to talk to someone ..." A shrug and a smile. "I get carried away."  
  
"It's ok," Luka repeated. And it really was. He knew how she felt. He'd spent much too much time alone himself. He didn't usually mind being alone, but for someone as clearly extroverted as Ralene, it must be hard. Even for himself it wasn't always easy. And _he_ had dealt with his own loneliness in ways far less healthy ... far more self-destructive than Ralene's method. He smiled at her. "Can I get you something? Lunch? Coffee?" Hmmm. ... maybe not coffee. Ralene on caffeine was a frightening thought.  
  
"No! I'm supposed to be taking care of you. You take it easy. Just point me to the kitchen. I'll make _you_ lunch. Or coffee."  
  
"The kitchen's just behind you, but I was actually going to send out for something. There isn't a lot of food in the kitchen just now. Abby's going to bring me all the cans from _her_ kitchen tonight. And, I hope, go shopping tomorrow."  
  
"Sending out for something's ok. I'm not much of a cook anyway."  
  
"Do you like pizza?"  
  
"Sure. I love pizza." She looked at him thoughtfully. "So Abby says you're feeling a lot better?"  
  
The change of subject startled him for a moment. "I'm getting there," he said. "I won't be ready to go back to work for a few more weeks, but I'm getting my strength back."  
  
"You look better. You look really good ... healthy I mean." A bit of a blush. "Not that I know what you looked like before ... I'd never seen you before you were ... hurt, y'know, but you look like you're doing better. Abby must be taking really good care of you. It must be great to know so many doctors and nurses ... they can take care of you when you're hurt."  
  
"Just one's all I need," Luka said softly. "Let me order that pizza, ok? What kind of toppings do you like?"  
  
"Whatever you like. But no pineapple."  
  
----------------  
  
Luka got up to put the leftovers away.  
  
"I can do that," Ralene said quickly.  
  
"I'm supposed to be moving around," Luka reminded her. "Didn't Abby tell you that?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess she did. I just don't want you to tire yourself too much."  
  
"I think I can handle the 2 meter walk to the refrigerator."  
  
Luka put the pizza and breadsticks in the fridge while Ralene put the few dishes in the sink  
  
"What now?" Ralene said. "What would you like to do, I mean?"  
  
Luka hesitated. "I am a little bit tired. I think I'll go lie down for a little while." He wasn't really all that tired, and Abby was right about Ralene; she grew on you after a while. He was finding himself increasingly amused rather than irritated by her boundless enthusiasm. But still, after almost two hours, he was ready for a break.  
  
"Ok. Do you need anything?"  
  
"What did you have in mind?"  
  
"I could bring you some tea ... or rub your back."  
  
"No thank you." Ralene looked hurt. "I'll let you know if I need anything, ok?"  
  
"Ok." Ralene's habitual smile returned. "Should I wake you in a couple of hours? Abby says you need to move around, right?"  
  
"I won't sleep long enough to worry about," Luka assured her. "You're welcome to watch tv, or read, if you can find something that interests you. I'm afraid most of my books are medical. Or Croatian."  
  
"I'll find something on tv. My Croatian's a little rusty, I think."  
  
Luka smiled at her, then escaped into the bedroom and shut the door behind him. 'She means well,' Abby had said. And Luka knew she was right. But still, a few hours apart would be a good thing. He looked at the phone for a moment. Maybe he should call Abby. But no, she was busy. He'd be seeing her again soon enough. And a few hours apart were good for them too.  
  
Stretching out on the bed Luka picked up the book from the bedside table. He hadn't read for pleasure in a long time. Usually it was all he could do to keep up with his professional reading. But a good thing ... the only good thing ... about being stuck at home for two months was that he was finding time to read again. Abby had brought him a stack of trashy novels from the hospital gift shop last week, and he'd worked his way through two of them already. He opened the book and settled down to read. After a few pages he found himself blinking sleepily. He shut the book and shut his eyes for a moment to rest them.


	30. Chapter 30

Some sexual content in this one.  Probably a bit more explicit than previously, but still PG-13, I think.

------

Something startled him awake. He'd been dreaming about cats. Or tigers. Claws on his back ... his shoulders.

No, not claws. Fingernails. Not sharp enough to hurt, but enough to send a slight tremor through him. Abby ... why was she ...?

No, not Abby either. Abby has short nails, long ones were hardly practical for ER work. And these nails were very long. There was the faint scent of unfamiliar cologne, and pepperoni.

Luka opened his eyes. Ralene of course. But why was she sitting on his bed, drawing her nails down his back and reading one of his books.

"Do you mind?" The words were a little harsher than he intended, his voice a little husky. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Do you need something?" As if he couldn't guess the answer.

But Ralene shrugged and smiled. "I was getting bored. And I was getting a little worried. You've been sleeping an awful long time."

"I'm fine," Luka said. He started to turn over, then thought better of it. He'd wait a minute.

"Oh, I can see that now. You look very healthy. Strong, too." Another smile from Ralene, and, despite his unease with the situation, it was all Luka could do to not laugh. She was trying to be subtle, but she did it rather badly. If nothing else, the long nail tracing the muscle in his arm made her intentions all too clear. A few months ago, Luka knew, he wouldn't have thought twice, but now he just wanted her out of his bed. Out of his room. Out of his apartment. He didn't like the way she was looking at him, touching him. He didn't like the way she was making him feel. Or, perhaps, the problem was that he _did_ like it.

"Ralene, I'm sure you're a very nice girl, but I ..."

"You don't think I'm pretty?" Ralene interrupted. A pout now, a rather pretty one, he had to admit.

"You're very pretty, and I like you, but it isn't a good idea. We can't."

"No strings, Luka. I know we don't know each other very well yet. If you find you don't like me, or I don't ... satisfy ..."

God ... what had Abby told her about him? Had the gossip made it this far? Did she really expect him to just pull her down on the bed with him?

He shook his head and sat up, finally. "Look, Ralene, it's nothing personal, ok? But I'm attached right now. Me and Abby,"

"Are nothing serious," Ralene finished for him. "Abby told me. I mean ... gosh, Luka, I would never dream of coming between the two of you, I wouldn't want to hurt Abby _or_ you. But Abby told me there's nothing going on, she's just helping you out, and just staying here until she has a chance to find a new apartment." Another pout. "If you don't like me ... if you don't want to sleep with me, I understand, but don't tell me it's because of Abby, because I know it isn't."

Luka hoped Ralene didn't notice the shocked and hurt expression that he knew had crossed his face at that moment. He'd _thought_ that he and Abby had something, or were trying to have something, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. They'd been talking for days now, but talking in circles really. They talked but said nothing. Abby was still unwilling to commit, to make any promises. Had she interpreted his lack of interest in sex as a lack of interest in _her_, rather than a legitmate mixture of fatigue and concern for her well-being? He thought he'd explained, but maybe not.

Abby was so hard to understand. How often had he reminded himself of that? But one thing was true of Abby, true of all women he'd ever known. They confided in their girlfriends, told them things they would never tell their boyfriends, their lovers, their husbands. And if she'd told Ralene they weren't a couple ... why would she have said so if _she_ didn't think it was true.

"Luka? Are you ok?" Luka quickly replaced his own worried frown with a smile.

"Yeah, I'm just a little tired yet." He looked at her for a moment, then cupped her chin and cheek in his palm. "Maybe a little later, ok?"

"Oh ... I didn't mean to rush you. I mean, we really _don't_ know each other very well, and I'm _not _really that kind of girl. It's just that Abby has told me so much about you, I feel like we've been friends forever."

------------

Friends forever. Like him and Abby. They could always be friends, but never anything more. Why was he trying to fool himself. She couldn't want him now. Maybe before ... before he'd shown her, shown everyone, what kind of man he really was. Even Ralene knew what kind of man he was. Why would any good woman want someone like him?

Did Ralene think that _they_ were really friends? He couldn't see himself being friends with her. She really wasn't his type at all. Not for a friend, not for a girlfriend. He liked women who were a bit quieter, calmer. He looked up from his magazine and watched Ralene bustling around the apartment, doing some bit of housework she'd found to occupy herself. She caught his eye and smiled at him. Sometime in the last half hour she'd undone the top buttons of her blouse. The lacy edge of her bra peeped out. No. Subtle she was not. She wanted him, but he didn't want her, did he? He just wanted Abby.

But no, who was he trying to fool? Not himself, certainly. Once, long ago, he'd been selective about the women he dated. He could count on one hand the number of women he'd dated, slept with, between the day Danijela died and the day he'd met Abby. He wanted women he could like as people, love as partners and companions. He'd taken his time. But now his standards were far less exacting. What did a woman need now to be his type? Breasts. A vagina. And a willingness to sleep with him ... ideally _without_ strings and without plans beyond the next sunrise. Had any of women he'd slept with lately _really_ been 'his type?' Had he ever gotten to know any of them well enough to find out? At least with Ralene, he knew her name. That was more than he could say about many of the others.

She _was_ his type. She found him attractive, that was obvious. She seemed to not notice the pallor, the shakiness. There was little of the solicitousness, the worry that underscored everything Abby did; every glance, every word. Ralene saw him as a man, not a patient. He knew she wouldn't even mind the scar that ran down his chest. She _wanted_ him as a man. How could that not make him feel good? How could that not  excite him?

And she _was_ pretty. Pink cheeks, thick black hair, black eyes that sparkled when she laughed or smiled. Full breasts and hips. And she was, undeniably, willing. If she approached sex with the same enthusiasm she seemed to bring to everything else ...

"What's funny?"

The question startled him. "What?"

"Your magazine. Something funny in there?" She leaned over the back of the couch to look over his shoulder, to let her breast brush against him.

Luka realized that he was smiling, and shook his head. "In the _Annals_ _of_ _Emergency Medicine?_ I don't think so."

"I didn't think so either. Looks awfully boring."

"It is." Luka put the magazine down. After a moment Ralene joined him on the couch. Touched his hand. "It's getting late. We should probably think about supper soon. Are you hungry?" Her eyes showed a mixture of innocence and ... something else.

Her eyes weren't black. They were blue, a very deep, rich blue. The shadow of her thick, long lashes made them look even darker.

"Not really," he said.

"Me neither," said Ralene. "Not for supper, anyway. But it _is_ getting late." Her meaning was clear. If they going to do anything, it would have to be soon. And he suddenly remembered another woman, it hadn't been so long ago, saying 'We only have 15 minutes left.' Yes, _she_ had known what kind of person he was, and so did Ralene. Why was he still trying to deny it? Why should he deny it ... deny himself a few moments of pleasure? For Abby? Abby didn't love him, didn't want him. Abby had gladly hurt him, thrown him aside.

Ralene didn't love him either, but at least she wanted him. At least for tonight. For an hour. He'd had enough pain. He _was_ entitled to some pleasure.

Those thick, long lashes brushed the tops of her cheekbones when she closed her eyes, and tickled his own face as she kissed him. Her lips were soft, and so was her body as it pressed against his own.

Automatically his arms went around her. One more woman. What did it matter? He felt her relax a little, melt into his embrace. He sensed her delight, her relief, as she realized that he was willing now. And he pushed aside the uneasy realization that he _was_ willing; more than that,  his body was responding. That for the past three nights he'd slept with Abby and felt nothing sexual at all. But now, for the second time today, Ralene's touch was arousing him. He didn't try to fight it anymore. What would be the point?

He should get up, he thought, lead her to the bedroom. That's what she would expect of him. How many times had he done that before? Taken a strange woman into his bed? But no, not the bed. Not this time. Abby slept there, would probably sleep there tonight. He couldn't  ... not in the bed. The couch would do just fine. Abby didn't sleep there anymore. And he was sure that Ralene wouldn't care where they did it. If the couch was too narrow, too awkward, there was always the floor.

Then he forced himself to stop thinking. This kind of thing worked best when you didn't think; when you ignored your heart and brain and listened only to your body. And hers.

But still, it was hard. He'd done this countless times with countless women, so why was it suddenly so difficult? He couldn't make himself touch her the way he knew she wanted to be touched. He'd start slow, go slow. There wasn't really that much of a rush. And if Abby walked in ... well ... he'd deal with it then.

Luka pulled the ponytail holder from Ralene's hair, let the curls cascade down her back. It was longer than he'd realized, and he ran his fingers through it, enjoying the silkiness against his hands. Focus on the physical, he reminded himself. Don't think. Don't analyze. Just enjoy it.

Ralene was enjoying it. And she was definitely enthusiastic. He felt her nails again across his back, hard enough probably to leave marks this time, then she was tugging at his shirt. He let her pull it over his head, then he did the same for her, more slowly. The blouse. The bra.  He let his hands linger. When she started tugging at his belt buckle he said softly, "Hey, slow down. Let's enjoy this a little, ok?" Though maybe it _would_ be better to get it over with quickly. Before he started thinking again.

"I am ... oh I am!" Ralene assured him, her voice even more breathless than usual. And he would enjoy it too, he knew, while it was happening. Again, Luka made himself stop thinking. He wouldn't think about what he was doing, or why. And he _wouldn't_ think about how he would feel afterwards. He forced  himself to focus on what he was doing, what he was feeling; on kissing her again, letting his hands roam over her body. He didn't stop her when she climbed onto his lap, straddling him, putting her breasts in easy reach of his lips. He could give her what she wanted. As long as he didn't think about it, it was easy.


	31. Chapter 31

A sound. Not loud, certainly not louder than Ralene's groans of pleasure just inches from his ears. But a familiar sound. It penetrated Luka's consciousness, but before he could register that it was the sound of a key in the lock, he heard the door open. And then a deafening silence.

Abby and Susan stood in the doorway. Neither said a word but, after a moment, Abby dropped the bags she was holding, and the sudden sound made Luka jump. And if looks could kill, he knew that he and Ralene would both be beyond resuscitation. Silently he moved Ralene off his lap. He couldn't think of anything to say, anything that would make the slightest difference.

Finally Ralene reached down and grabbed her shirt and held it in front of her. "You said you weren't going to be back until 9," she said.

"Yeah ... well ... we're a little early. Get out."

Ralene shook her head. "I thought we'd be done before you got back. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."

"Get. The fuck. Out." The words were brittle, but Luka sensed that there were tears behind the anger.

"I don't know what you 're so pissed off about," Ralene said, sounding angry herself now. "Seems damn selfish to me. I mean,_you_ aren't ..."

"Now!" Abby snapped.

More slowly than necessary, Ralene pulled her shirt on and buttoned it. "It was fun, Luka. Maybe another time."

"Yeah." Luka kept his eyes downcast, so as not to see Ralene's body, or Abby's face.

Ralene strolled to the coat rack and took her jacket from the hook as Abby finally left the doorway and took a few steps into the apartment.

"I think you forgot something?"

"What?"

"Your underwear."

"Oh yeah. Sorry." Coolly, Ralene came back to the couch. "Luka, could you hand me...?" Luka just shook his head. Why wouldn't she just leave?" Bending down, giving Luka one last look down her cleavage, Ralene picked up her bra and stuffed it into her pocket. A quick smile for Luka, then a hurt look for Abby. "I still don't get it, Abby. You said you weren't interested in him." She pushed past Susan, still standing in the doorway, and was gone. Susan stepped into the room and pulled the door shut behind her.

Luka took a deep breath, He picked up his own shirt and slowly turned it over in his hands. "Abby ... nothing happened."

"Nothing? That was _nothing_? Oh, right. Of course. You were giving her a free breast exam. How thoughtful of you. Interesting technique though. I've never seen a doctor use his tongue before. I'm sure if we'd walked in 10 minutes later we would have gotten to see you giving her a pelvic. I can't imagine what _that_ would have been like!"

Susan suddenly cleared her throat. Luka looked up for an instant, to see her fighting a smile. "Look ..." she said after a moment. "I'm sure the two of you have a _lot_ to talk about. I'll go get something to eat. Abby ... call me when you want me to bring the rest of your stuff over ... or take you somewhere. I still have a couch, you know."

"Yeah, sure ..." Abby said softly, and they both waited silently until the door had opened and shut again, and they were alone. "What were you thinking?" Abby snapped. "_Were_ you thinking?"

"She came on to me ... " Luka stammered. He couldn't tell her the real reason. That he'd _wanted_ to hurt her. It didn't make sense now. How could he have ever wanted to hurt her?

"And you couldn't tell her no? God ... I thought you had a _little_ more ..." Abby trailed off and shook her head. Wiped suddenly at eyes that were suddenly wet, then continued more quietly."If you didn't have a little respect for me, couldn't you have a little for yourself?"

"No." The word came quietly. "I don't. You know me, Abby. You know who I am. Luka Kovac, the handsome foreign doctor who'll screw anyone. I fuck patients' mothers in closets, I pick up hookers in bars." A bitter smile. "It _is_ possible to have sex in the front seat of a Viper... did you know that? Takes practice, but I've had a lot of it. Blow jobs are easiest, of course, but anything is possible if you're flexible ...and imaginative."

"Luka ..." Abby said softly, but Luka went on relentlessly.

"This is who I am. This is _what_ I am now. You don't want someone like that ... you _do_ deserve better."

"No, Luka, that's _not_ who you are. That person _isn't _you. I _know_ you."

"Do you?"

"That wasn't you. That was a stranger ... a person in pain ... trying to find a way out ... trying to find ... something to numb the pain a little."

"Well ... maybe I'm still in pain."

"I know." Abby whispered. After a moment she went on, "But I thought we were ..."

Luka interrupted suddenly."Did you tell her that?"

Startled, Abby stared at him. "Tell who ... what?"

"Did you tell Ralene that we weren't together."

"No!" Then a pained look, and a flush crept over her cheeks. "I guess ... yeah ... I did." Then quickly, "But _you_ knew we were."

"Why did you tell her that? You're ashamed of me ... of us." It wasn't a question. Of course she was.

"No, not at all."

"Then why?"

"I don't know. It just ... didn't seem like it was any of her business. I'm probably never going to see her again. If I'd said we were a couple, she could have started asking a lot of questions ... grilling me for details ... she's like that. I didn't want to get into it. It seemed easier to just lie." She shook her head. "But .. God, Luka, I never thought you'd take it as an excuse to ... what _were_ you thinking?"

"What am I supposed to think? I don't know what's going on with us. One minute you're saying you want to make it work, then suddenly you're telling people we aren't together. You sleep in my bed but you're still talking about finding an apartment. One minute you're my lover, the next minute you're my nurse ... my friend ... I need to know where we're going. I need to know what_you_ really want. If you don't think you can be with ... someone like me ... I understand, but we need to come to some sort of agreement."

Abby sighed, finally sat down beside him on the couch. "I don't know. I still don't know what I want. But it has nothing to do with you. It's not about you ... your ... past. It's about me ... my own feelings. I don't know what I'm feeling, and I'm scared to delve too deeply into them. I don't know what I'm going to find.

"I told you once that I've never loved anyone. That's still true. Or maybe I have ... but I don't know what it feels like, so I don't recognize it as love. Maybe I did love Carter ... maybe I ... love you ... but I don't know. I just don't know what love _is_. Maggie loved me. She still does. But she's hardly a good role model, is she? And Brian ... he loved Joyce, and look where it got them."

"You don't think that I'd ever ..."

"No! Of course not. I'm just saying that I don't have any good examples to go on. Your parents ... they loved each other, right?"

"Yeah, they did. My mom died 2 days before their 40th anniversary."

"And Danijela ... your kids ...I know how much you loved them. You had your parents who loved you ... and each other. I had Maggie, and a father I barely remember. You had Danijela ... I had Richard, and a marriage that was a disaster from start to finish. You had your children ... I had an abortion. I was too scared to even try and have a child."

Abby wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I don't think I could _ever_ love like that. I can't give you the kind of love Danijela gave you ... and I know you'd always be wanting that. I know that I can compete with Ralene .. and win hands down. I can compete with all the hookers, and the one night stands ... but I can't compete with Danijela."

"You don't have to. I'd never ask you to. I loved Dani ... and my children. I still do. But I also love you. They're dead, Abby, and I'm trying to move on. I've been trying for so long ..." Luka took her hands, touched her for the first time all evening. He saw a flicker of pain in Abby's eyes, but she didn't pull away. "I don't expect you to be Danijela, to love me like Danijela. I just want you to be Abby ... and love me like Abby."

"But that's just it. I don't know how."

"Give yourself a chance to learn. And let me ..." Luka hesitated. "Let me be the one to teach you."

A sudden laugh through the tears. "God, Luka ... you sound like a harlequin romance."

"Your fault if I do. Did you actually _read_ any of those books you gave me?"

"Are you kidding? I don't read that crap. But the hospital gift shop isn't exactly Barnes and Noble. Not much selection."

"Well, romance novel or not, I do love you, Abby."

"You expect me to believe that ... after tonight?"

"I'm sorry. I was wrong ... so wrong. I was angry ... hurt. What you said to Ralene hurt me ... I wanted to hurt you back ... or maybe prove to myself that I _didn't_ deserve you. I don't know. It was all so confusing." He ran his tongue over his lips nervously, and suddenly remembered Ralene's kisses, the feel of her skin beneath his lips. After a moment he went on, "And Ralene made me feel ... like a man again. Not like a patient ... someone to be pitied, taken care of."

"Have I been doing that?"

"Yeah, you have. Maybe you didn't realize it."

"I told you I wasn't good at this relationship stuff. But you said you weren't ready ... I didn't want to push you."

"Maybe a push was what I needed. Though I know you probably aren't ready yet either."

"I am." A smile. "Maybe I just needed a push too. Though I'd rather it hadn't been this one."

"So, I'm forgiven then?"

"Yeah. It was my fault too." She squeezed his hand.

"You should probably call Susan, tell her to bring the rest of your stuff over, and that you _won't_ be needing her couch tonight."

"Susan can wait," Abby said softly, and leaned over to kiss him. Luka's arms went around her automatically. No hesitation, no discomfort. She belonged in his arms. A long, slow kiss.

He started to undress her, and murmured in her ear, "No hurry, I suppose. You won't be needing your clothes tonight," and Abby laughed. When she was naked he looked at her for a long moment ... God, she was beautiful ... then rose and took her hand to lead her to the bedroom.

Susan would be waiting a long time, he thought. They were going to take a long time; take it slow. Abby liked it slow. He knew that. And so did he.


	32. Chapter 32

A/N So this was actually going to be just the first half of a longer chapter. But the rest isn't coming together, and will probably be a few days yet. This part IS self-contained, so, though it's a bit short, I'll go ahead and call it chapter 32.

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Abby sat up quietly and started to slide out of bed.

"Where are you going?" Luka asked. She'd thought he was asleep.

"I still need to call Susan. She's probably wondering what happened to us."

A smile. "I think she can guess."

"I still need to call her." Abby could feel Luka's eyes on her and, as casually as she could, she reached into her suitcase for a nightshirt and pulled it over her head. Luka would have to clear some drawer space for her soon.

"Don't be long." His voice still smiled.

"What? You have further plans for the evening?"

"Maybe ... maybe. It is still early, you know. And neither us of has anywhere to go tomorrow."

"My only plans are for sleep," Abby said. "_You_ did nothing much today. I packed up an entire apartment."

"Nothing much? You call what we just did 'nothing much?'"

"You know what I mean! I won't be long." She smiled back at him and went into the other room, her smile vanishing as soon as she'd shut the door behind her. She picked up the phone but didn't dial.

She'd thought she was ready. She was sure of it. She had kissed him, knowing where it would lead. And it had. His kisses, his arms around her, his hands touching her. All familiar, all arousing. It was what she had wanted. And then he'd taken her hand, pulled her up off the couch. And she'd realized that she was naked, that those caressing hands had been undressing her. He'd looked at her, his eyes warm, loving -- but she had shivered. Sudden concern from Luka.

"You're cold?"

"Yeah, it's chilly in here." A lie. She wasn't cold, not really. But she didn't want him looking at her. How many times before had he seen her body? More than she could count. But not lately. When she and Luka had made love the other night, there had been only the dim light from the bathroom, there had been blankets. They had touched. They had ... felt. But they hadn't really looked at each other. The last man to have seen her body had been Brian. _He_ had looked at her, appraised her. She _wasn't_ ready for this. But Luka couldn't know it. She couldn't hurt his feelings.

Cold was a good enough excuse. A good reason to hurry into the bedroom, get under the covers again. To let Luka's hands ... his body ... his words ... warm her. To help her remember earlier nights with him, and blot out some more recent nights that she only wanted to forget.

And it had been good. Luka had been patient. Tender, gentle, loving. Once she was safely in bed, she could enjoy it. The only hard part had been looking into Luka's eyes, and seeing how much he _did_ love her. Knowing that he was, truly, making love, for the first time in a very long time. And wondering if she would ever be able to feel that way herself.

Making love. It was an interesting euphemism. Sex could mean so many different things, _be_ so many different things. It could be violence and cruelty. Rape. Pain. Or it could be purely physical. Scratching an itch, a brief interlude of pleasure in a busy life. Or the meeting of two souls, communication without the need for words. The other night had been like that. Or it could be a duty. How many times had she had sex with Richard because that was what she supposed to do. What married people were supposed to do. It hadn't been _bad_ with Richard, but it hadn't been making love. There hadn't been any love there at all. Because sex could also mean nothing at all. Abby _knew_ that all those women had meant nothing to Luka. Even the physical pleasure had been unimportant. Sex had been just one way of forgetting. Like sleep. Like alcohol.

But 'making love?' Could sex _make_ love? Create love where none existed? She'd had sex with Richard countless times, and hadn't loved him. She hadn't loved John either. Sex had been ... just sex. But what about Luka? Did she love Luka before? What hadsex been during all those months they'd been together? She couldn't remember. She could remember the physical sensations, she could remember falling asleep in his arms, waking up together But she couldn't remember what she had felt.

It was all too confusing. She didn't even know if she loved him now. If she didn't know her feelings now, how could she hope to remember her feelings from two years ago. But maybe she could love him. Maybe she would. Eventually. Maybe he _could_ teach her. If she wasn't already damaged beyond repair.

Abby sighed and shook her head, shook off her reverie. She needed to call Susan, then get back to bed. She _was_ tired, and Luka was surely asleep by now. Susan picked up on the second ring. "Abby?"

"Yeah."

"I've been getting worried."

"I'm sorry. I should have called sooner," Abby said.

"Does this mean that I don't need to open the pull-out tonight?"

Abby laughed. "Yeah, it does. We ... made up."

A low whistle. "Three hours worth of making up?"

"Well, half an hour of fighting and two and a half of making up."

"Lucky you. So ... when do you want the rest of your stuff?"

"Tomorrow's fine. Whenever you have a chance. We'll both be home."

"Ok. I don't work tomorrow, so I'll stop by at some point. Good night."

"Night." Abby hung up then sat and looked at the closed bedroom door for a moment._was_ she lucky? Or had her earlier words to Susan been the truth? Celibacy _was_ much less complicated, wasn't it?

Abby returned to the bedroom. She stood in the doorway for a moment. Was Luka asleep? He seemed to be. She got into bed beside him and, after a moment, curled her body against his. His arm wrapped around her and he mumbled something, then was quiet again. He was asleep. She rested her head against his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his body, and drifted off to sleep.


	33. Chapter 33

Sorry that this chapter has taken FOREVER to be posted. I just couldn't make it happen. Luka and Abby were NOT cooperating with my pen. The stuff I'd promised would follow 32 just wasn't working, so I started over. About 5 times. I really do know where I'm going now, so the rest should follow much more quickly. Really! 

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Two thirty. Abby should have been home long ago. The chinese food Luka had ordered for their lunch was growing cold on the table. And there was a colder feeling, that he tried to ignore, in the pit of his stomach.

It was nothing to worry about. How often had he worked an hour, or several, past the end of his shift? If a trauma had come in a few minutes before she was about to leave, she _couldn't_ just walk out, and she couldn't take a break to call him, let him know she'd be late.

It was her first day back at work. Just half shifts for a while, but she wanted to go back, needed to go back. She needed the money, she'd told him. She didn't, of course, not really. Luka would have gladly paid the rent on the storage shed, and her expenses while she lived here. But Abby wouldn't hear of it. She _would_ pay her own bills, and split his rent and the groceries. So ...she needed the money.

And it wasn't as if he needed her here all the time anymore. He was doing fine, getting his strength back. He could take care of himself. And it was good for them to be apart for a while.

Things were ... good ... between them now. But there was still something --- off --- about Abby. Something Luka couldn't put his finger on. Or maybe there was something off about him, something that Abby could see, but he could not.

She was a willing, even enthusiastic partner in bed. But he'd sometimes wake in the night to see her sitting by the window, chain-smoking. And during the day she seemed on edge. He would often catch her staring into space, or watching him with an expression on her face that he couldn't quite read. "Nothing's wrong," was always her reply when he asked her about it.

"Have you talked to anyone?" he'd finally asked her.

"About what?"

"About what happened ... to you."

"I don't need to. There's nothing to talk about; I'm doing fine. I just need to get busy again." A rather forced smile. "Taking care of you isn't exactly a strain on my clinical skills, you know."

So she'd gone back to work. It was the best thing, of course. For her, for him, and for them. Being together, mostly stuck at home, 24/7 wasn't good for them. Conversation had long since started to run dry. Maybe that's why things were better in bed than at any other time. In bed, they didn't have to talk.

Luka couldn't help envying her a little. S_he_ was back at work, keeping busy again, doing what she'd been trained to do. And he was still stuck at home. He _was_ improving, doing better, but he knew he wasn't anywhere near ready to return to work. Getting around his apartment, taking care of himself, was a far cry from working a 12 hour shift, with all the stress, and hours at a time on his feet. No, he wasn't ready to go back yet.

Sohe wasn't surprised that Abby had chosen to work late. Working, the satisfaction of helping other people, doing what she loved. It had to be better than coming home to him, to work on a relationship that was still going nowhere ... trying to learn how to love him.

Nearly 3. Luka picked up the phone. At the second ring came Jerry's familiar "ER!"

And Luka suddenly hesitated. Did anyone know that Abby was living with him? Carter knew, of course, and Susan, but they could be trusted to keep confidences. So, unless Abby had said something .... Oh well, Luka plunged forward. "Hi, Jerry. It's Dr. Kovac."

"How are you feeling?" Jerry interrupted. "We miss you around here!"

"I'm doing better, thanks. I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise." Ok. Keep going. "Is ... ummm ... do you know how much longer Abby will be?"

"She just worked a half shift today, Dr. Kovac. She was off at one --- clocked out a little early, in fact." A pause. "Can I get her a message? She'll be in tomorrow."

"No thanks. I'll call her."

Luka hung up the phone slowly. It was a 10 minute el ride home, then about a five minute walk from the station. She'd gotten off two hours ago. She could have stopped to do some errands, of course. But she would have called. She'd called twice during the morning to check on _him_, but he hadn't heard from her since around 10.

He picked up the phone again, but didn't dial. He could call her, there was nothing wrong with that. But she might be annoyed at him for checking up on her. Or maybe she wouldn't answer at all. What if she didn't answer at all?

The sound of a key in the lock. Luka breathed a sigh of relief and hung up quickly as the door opened. "I was getting worried," he said quickly as Abby came in.

"No need to be. What do you think might have happened to me?" A half smile. "What are the odds of me being raped twice in one month?"

"I didn't mean that," Luka said softly. "I just thought ..."

"That you had to know where I am every minute? Is _that_ what love is?" Hard. Bitter.

Luka just looked at her. What had he done? What had he said? Abby had hung up her jacket, but still hovered on the far side of the room. She hadn't looked at him. She looked a bit flushed, he thought, and maybe her hands were shaking a little. She didn't say anything more.

Another deep breath. "I'll warm up the lunch. I got you ..."

"I'm not hungry. I already ate."

So that was it. A simple enough explanation. She'd gotten lunch after work, probably with some of the other nurses. She'd been away for a couple of weeks, and hadn't seen them. It was reasonable that she'd want to spend some time with her friends, catch up on things.

"Well ... I haven't eaten yet. I was waiting for you."

"So eat. You need to eat."

Luka filled a plate and put in the microwave to warm. He watched the carousel going around ... it was easier than looking at Abby. The hum of the machine made the silence seem even louder. Still with his back to her he said, "You had lunch with ... Chuny?"

"No." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Abby sit on the couch, pick up the remote.

"Who?" Not Carter, surely.

"Myself!" Abby snapped out. "Or am I not allowed to do that either?"

Again the silence, with only the hum of the microwave. Luka didn't know what to say. Whatever he said seemed to make things worse. Whatever was bothering Abby, and something clearly was, would have to wait until _she_ volunteered it. Not that she would. He knew her well enough to know that much.

He took his plate from the microwave and started towards the couch. Guessing his intentions, Abby got up quickly and moved to the chair. She still hadn't looked at him, but he was close enough now to see that her hands _were_ shaking.

"What did I do?" Luka asked softly. He had to try.

"What?" Clearly baffled by the question.

"You're angry at me about something. I'd like to know what. Is it still ... Ralene?"

"No." A sigh, anda bit of the tension seemed to leave Abby's body, and she started to look at him, then back at her hands. "I'm just ...." a helpless gesture. "Tired."

"Work was rough?"

"No." Too quick. "Not really. It was pretty quiet actually."

"Jerry said you left early."

"Just a little. It was quiet ... the other nurses could handle it."

"Any interesting patients in all that quiet?" Luka tried to keep his voice casual. She seemed to be relaxing a little more. Maybe she'd volunteer something. Eventually.

"Not really." Again, too quick. "98 year old with an MI. Family insisted we work on him for an hour even though he'd coded in the ambulance. His daughter said their family _always_ lived to be 100... if he died young it would be our fault." Almost a smile.

"Did he make it?"

"What do you think? And a kid who fell off his skateboard, broke his arm. Nothing much else." Tense again.

Luka picked at his meal. He'd been hungry before, but the tension had taken away his appetite. He couldn't think of anything more to say.

After a minute Abby got up and started for the kitchen. As she passed him he smelled a faint odor. Faint but familiar. And startling.

"You've been drinking!"

"No, I haven't!"

"I smell beer, Abby. On your breath, and your shirt."

"I had ... A Beer. With lunch. Must've spilled a little. That's not 'drinking,' it's having a beer. I sometimes drink a little, you know that."

"Why today?" He knew she sometimes drank with friends. But never alone.

A shrug. "I felt like it, ok? Maybe I was celebrating my first day back at work. Or our new love affair." No smile now. The tension was stronger than ever.

She pulled free from his grasp and went to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and then, watching him with a clear, 'I dare you to stop me' look in her eyes, took the vodka bottle from the cabinet and added a hefty splash to the glass. Returning to her chair she sat down and raised the glass. "I actually had three beers with lunch," she said quietly. "Or was it four?"

"Abby ... don't ..."

Still watching him over the rim of the glass, Abby took a long drink. When she finally lowered the glass, only half full now, Luka reached foward quickly and his hand closed around it, over Abby's hand.

"Don't do this," he said again. "Whatever is wrong, there are better ways of dealing with it."

"So speaks the expert on 'dealing with' things." A bitter laugh. "I'm an alcoholic, remember? This is how_I_ deal with things. This is who_I_ am."

"Tell me what's wrong. Whatever it is, I can help." A hesitation. "Or is it me? Something I did?"

"Men ... they always think it's all about them!"

They were still fighting grimly for the glass. Luka knew that he could take it from her if he really tried, he was strong enough. But he hoped she'd relinquish it voluntarily. Still, when she finally did, it was so sudden that Luka lost his own grip, and the screwdriver splashed over Abby's pants, and onto the floor.

"Damn it!" snapped Abby, jumping to her feet.

"I'm sorry ... I'll get you a towel."

"Dont' bother." Abby turned on her heel and walked into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.


	34. Chapter 34

She'd gone into the bedroom to change her clothes of course. She would be out in a minute. But a minute passed ... and ten. She didn't come out.Luka watched the closed bedroom door and waited. He could go in, he could check on her. It _was_, after all, his bedroom. But no, she'd only get even more angry if he did that. At least, he thought, there was no liquor in there. Unless she'd smuggled some in her luggage. 

Luka paced the room, watched the clock. He had waited for so long for Abby to come home, waited to not be alone again. But now he _was _alone again, maybe he'd always been alone. A wall between them, and a door. Would Abby ever open the door, let him into her heart? He couldn't force it, he knew._ She _had to open the door.

He'd wanted her before. He'd always wanted her, from the first time they'd gone out. But now it was different. Now he needed her. He had nearly died, and now that he had his life back, he wasn't ready to give up on it, or on love. He needed to be loved again. Could Abby ever love him? Could she ever enter the door that he'd opened for her?

An hour. Luka started for the bedroom door. He would go in, make some excuse for being there. It _was_ his bedroom, he had every right to be there. But as he reached for the doorknob he heard the sound of muffled sobbing coming through the door. A hesitation, then Luka sighed and returned to the couch. He picked up the remote that Abby had dropped, and found something to watch on tv. Anything to distract him from his worries.

The telephone made him jump. Who would be calling him? The only calls he ever got anymore were from Abby, and she was in the bedroom. Abby was his only friend. Abby was his only lover.

"Hello?"

"Hi Luka; it's John. Is Abby there?"

What to say? 'Yeah, but she's in my room crying her eyes out?' or maybe 'Yeah, but she's sleeping off a bender right now?' Fortunately he didn't have to get beyond, "Yeah, she is," when Carter interrupted.

"Good, I was worried. We all were. She was so upset ... I sent her home early. I just wanted to be sure she made it home ok."

"What happened?" Luka asked softly. "She's still ... upset, but she won't tell me what's wrong." And _he _wouldn't tell Carter that she'd been drinking. Silence on the other end of the phone. "Carter, tell me!" Luka couldn't keep the tension, the fearout of his voice. "Did something happen? Did someone hurt her?"

Another brief silence then Carter said slowly, "She had a patient, three actually. It was hard on all of us, a really rough case, but for Abby it was ... must've been horrible." Another brief silence, and Luka waited until Carter was ready to continue. "Nine year old girl, sexually abused by her father ... raped. As near as we could tell, from what she said, Mom walked in on them, Dad shot her, then himself. "

"Oh God ..." Luka whispered. "Any survivors?"

"The girl. Dad died in the ambulance, Mom in the OR. The girl's fine ... physically anyway."

"And she was Abby's patient." Not a question.

"Right. If we'd known when they came in what it was all about, I would never have assigned her the girl. But it looked like an easy one for her. I got the joy of working on the father." Luka heard the sigh through the phone.

"Thanks for telling me," he said, when it was clear that Carter was done with his story.

"How is she doing?"

"Considering what she just went through ... ok, I guess."

"How are_ you _doing these days? When you will be back to work?"

"Not soon enough. But aren't you the one who told me not to rush it?"

"I did. We miss you though."

"So I hear." It was nice to hear, but he wasn't sure he believed Carter. Did they really miss _him_, or were they just getting annoyed at being short an attending?

Luka hung up the phone and looked towards the bedroom. Had she heard the conversation? _Should _he go in now? At least he would have something useful to say, he knew what was wrong. He could help her now. But no, he knew he still had to wait for her. And she couldn't stay in there forever.

---------------

The sound of water running in the bathroom, and then the door opened and Abby came out. She'd been in there for four hours. Her face was pale, her eyes still red.

"Feeling better?" Luka asked.

"I'm sober ... more or less." She managed a small smile. "I'm sorry, Luka. I don't know what came over me ..."

"I know ... what happened."

Abby's eyes widened. "How?"

"Carter called. He wanted to make sure you'd made it home ok."

"Carter should mind his own business."

"He cares about you, and so do I. You could have told me, Abby. You _should_ have told me."

"Why? So you could feel sorry for me?" She shook her head. "You have enough to worry about ... you don't need to be fretting about me."

"What should I be worrying about? I'm getting better, Abby. I don't have to worry about myself, and you don't have to worry about me. But I _do_ worry about you. I love you, remember? Do you think I don't have reason to worry when the woman I love comes home drunk?"

"Drunk?" A short laugh. "I wasn't drunk. Wish I had been. A good old-fashioned blackout would have just about hit the spot." She had carefully ignored that word. The one he kept saying to her, but she still couldn't say to him.

"Maybe you aren't ready to be back at work yet."

"This is hardly a daily occurrence, Luka. I'll be fine. It was just ... a shock." She sighed, and her voice became more cheerful. "So, how was your morning?"

"It was quiet. Abby, you need to talk about this."

"No, I don't." She got up and went to the kitchen. "Should I warm up that Chinese food for dinner? Or did you eat it all?"

"It's fine. Whatever." He didn't miss Abby's eyes looking, a bit longingly perhaps, at the cupboard where he kept the liquor. And he was thankful that he'd poured it alldown the sink hours earlier. He couldn't keep her from drinking if she set her mind to it, but he didn't have to make it easy for her.

They didn't talk over dinner. They didn't eat much over dinner either. Luka wasn't hungry, and he watched as Abby just picked at her meal as well. Maybe tomorrow, he thought. Maybe she'd feel more able to talk tomorrow, after a good night's sleep. Maybe he could convince her to stay home tomorrow. She wasn't ready to go back to work, to deal with other people's traumas and pain.

Finally Abby got up to clear away the plates. "You done?" she asked.

"Yeah." The first words they'd exchanged in the past 20 minutes. "I'm pretty tired. I think I'm going to go to bed now." He wasn't really. He didn't do anything anymore to _get _tired from. It was still very early, barely 8 o:clock, but Luka didn't think he could stand the silence much longer.

Being alone was hard, but he was used to it. He'd been alone for so many years. Being alone while in the room with another person was worse. And being alone while in the same room with Abby was agony.

"I'll be along soon too," Abby said. "I have an early shift tomorrow."

Luka had just gotten into bed and picked up his book to read for a while when he heard Abby go into the bathroom. Water running as she washed up and brushed her teeth. She looked surprised when she came into the bedroom.

"I thought you were going to sleep," she said.

"I was just reading for a while. But if you're tired ..." He'd have to let her put out the light. He couldn't escape into the other room again.

Abby didn't reply. She quickly undressed, turned out the light, and got into bed beside him. And Luka wasn't sure what to do. Of course she wouldn't want to make love tonight. She was too upset, the wounds too freshly opened. It would be a while before she was ready again. But a good-night kiss? Would she want that? Expect it? They hadn't touched all day ... except for the brief moment when they'd fought over the glass. If only he could know what she wanted? How could he love someone so much, while understanding her so little?

His thoughts were interrupted by the rustle of the blankets as Abby slid closer to him. He turned to look at her, and she kissed him. Not the brief, perfunctory good-night kiss that he'd been debating offering _her_, but a deep, lingering one. When her lips finally left his, it was only so they could kiss his neck, his shoulder.

"Abby ... I don't think ..." But her kisses stopped his words again, and her hands and mouth roaming over his body made it all too clear that he had thought wrong. Most women wouldn't have wanted sex after a day like this ... but Abby wasn't most women. That much he knew. And, while he didn't understand her, he loved her. He wanted her. Whatever she was willing to offer him, he would take. He didn't yet have her heart, her soul ... but she was giving him her body. Could he refuse it? Could he risk hurting her by refusing the one part of her she did offer so freely?

This _wasn't_ right. Even as he began to return her kisses, her caresses, he knew somewhere deep in his heart that it wasn't right. This wasn't what they needed, it shouldn't be what_ she _needed. But it was what she wanted, and what she seemed to think she needed. She couldn't find comfort in _his_ heart, _his_ soul. They couldn't communicate in words, but their bodies could always connect. Tonight_ she _was the one using sex to forget her pain, or at least mask it for a little while. A feeling he understood all too well. It wasn't what he wanted tonight, but if it was enough for her, it would have to be enough for him.

They didn't talk. They almost never talked while making love. And it was ok. The silences that were so uncomfortable at other times spoke volumes while they were in bed. Here he could show her how much he loved her, and he could imagine, at least, that she loved him too. Once he had begun to respond to her Abby had relaxed, become less insistant. She was soft and warm in his arms, responsive to his touch, his kisses. She let him make love to her. And for the moment, it _was_ enough for him.

When they were done, they lay together comfortably, still not talking. Luka was drowsy, relaxed; just starting to drift off to sleep when he felt something wet on his shoulder. Was she kissing him again? No. It was a tear. Abby was crying. Silently, without trembling or moving.

"Abby?" Luka asked softly.

"You know what she said?" Barely a whisper.

"Who?"

"Misty. The girl. She said, 'Daddy loves me. Every day ... he told me he loved me ... who will love me now?'"

Luka swallowed the lump in his throat. "That wasn't love, Abby." She didn't answer, and he couldn't think of anything else to say. He could tell her again that he loved her, but it wouldn't make any difference. Not right now.

Abby sat up, moved away from him. He heard the crackle of cellophane as she took a cigarette out of the pack, but she didn't light it. She just sat on the far edge of the bed, her back to him. Luka watched her for a few minutes. He could see the white skin of her bare back, the tousled hair over her shoulders. Even if she turned, he knew he wouldn't be able to really see her face. It was too dark.

"Come back into bed," he said after a while. "You'll get cold."

"I'm not cold."

"Abby ...."

"I said I'm fine!"

As Luka finally drifted off to sleep, she was still sitting there. And when he woke in the morning, the bed was empty.


	35. Chapter 35

The note on the coffee-maker was brief and to the point. _'You were still asleep and I had to go to work. Call if you need anything. I'll bring home lunch. Abby_.' 

She'd made coffee, and poured cornflakes into a bowl. She was still taking care of him, looking after him. Luka added milk to the cereal and sat down to eat. When he was done he washed the cup and bowl and then wandered over to the sofa where he sat down to stare at the phone ... and listen to the silence.

He didn't call her. All he _needed_ was to hear her voice and to know that she was ok. But he knew that wasn't what she meant. And he knew that she wasn't ok. Nothing was ok. Nothing was right. As suddenly as everything had come together for them, everything was falling apart again.

It was the longest morning Luka could remember, and the loneliest. He'd been alone for so much of his life. He _was_ used to being alone, but even during the worst days he'd always had his work to look forward to. Now he just had Abby's homecoming to look forward to. That was all.

What was it about Abby? She had the ability to make him feel less lonely, less alone, than anyone he'd ever known. And the ability to cause him more pain. She could fill the hollow places in his soul and, just as easily, create new ones that would never be filled. Did she even know the power she had over him? Did she care?

He _didn't_ understand her, and it seemed that every day he spent with her, he understood himself a little bit less. 'I don't know what I'm feeling,' she'd told him. 'And I'm afraid to look too deeply ... afraid of what I'll find..' Did he have that same fear? That if he looked too hard at his feelings that he might see something he didn't want to face? He loved her; that much he was certain of. Why couldn't it be enough?

---------------

1:25 p.m. The key in the lock, right on schedule. "I brought you burgers and fries," Abby said, putting the bag on the table. "With extra mayo, just the way you like it."

"My cardiologist thanks you." She seemed cheerful enough today. He smiled at her, but she didn't smile back.

"You have a cardiologist?"

"My future cardiologist thanks you." Luka opened the bag. It contained only 2 hamburgers and a medium box of fries. "Where's your lunch? Or did you eat it on the el?"

"I'm not really hungry. I'm going out for a while; I'll pick something up later."

And Luka realized that she hadn't taken off her jacket, hadn't looked at him. "You just got home ...."

"I brought you your lunch." She turned towards the door again. "I have my cell phone. Call me if you need anything."

"Where are you going?" The toofamiliar ache in his heart, the familiar fear.

"Out." Her hand was on the doorknob.

"Abby .... talk to me, please?"

Abby shook her head. "It's nothing sinister, Luka. I'm_not_ heading for the local bar, I promise. I just ... when I was packing the other day I realized that I only have like 5 pairs of socks that _don't_ have holes in them. And we're low on soap and ..." She spoke rapidly. How many times had she rehearsed this?

"Stop running away from this," Luka said softly. "Stop running away from me. Please."

Abby sighed, shut the door and took off her jacket. "I hope you know how to darn socks." She sat down across from him, and Luka suddenly remembered a kiss tasting of strawberry jam. It felt like a lifetime ago. He searched for something to say.

"I want to help you, Abby. I know ... how hard this is for you."

"You can't." She looked at her hands.

"I can't help ... or I can't know what you're feeling?"

"Either one."

"I can help you , and I want to. You helped me ... so much, those first couple of weeks."

"I'm a nurse, that's what we do."

"I'm not just talking about being my nurse. You were there for me. You ... you saved my life, and I'm not just talking about the PE. You gave me a reason to want to go on ... to _want _to live."

"If it wasn't for me you wouldn't have had to go through any of this to begin with!"

"It's not your fault."

"You would never have met Brian if it hadn't been for me. And he sure as hell wouldn't have tried to kill you."

"But he _didn't_ kill me. I survived, and maybe ..." Luka hesitated. "Maybe it was ... meant to be, you know? To bring us together. To change us."

A short laugh from Abby. "I was raped as part of some sort of grand plan?"

"No!" God ... why couldn't he find the right things to say. "But you_were_ raped. And I was shot. You helped me after I was shot ... now I want to help you. We were hurt ... together. Now we can heal together. I can help you ... if you'll let me."

"There's nothing you can do, Luka."

"You never give me the chance to try."

"You can't fix this for me. Carter wanted to fix it and now you want to. Everyone wants to ... fix me, but you can't. Some things just can't _be _fixed. Not that way. You ... your injuries were nice and straightforward. Anspaugh took two bullets out of your chest and sewed you up, and you were on the road to recovery. But me ... my wounds ... my ... scars ... are harder to see, and they_can't_ be fixed." Abby rose and went to get her jacket. "You can't just patch up a rape, Luka. And since you can't fix the holes in my socks either, I need to go out."

"If you won't let me help you ... at least talk to _someone_."

"When I was in the hospital I talked to the nice lady from rape-crisis. She told me it would take time to heal. I just need some time, Luka. And some space."

The door slammed behind her, the sound of it almost a physical pain. How many more doors would she close between them? How much longer would she keep running away from her pain? From the help that he knew he could give her?

--------------

Luka looked down at Abby, sleeping peacefully beside him. She no longer got out of bed after making love, no longer left him to fall asleep alone. It was one small thing to be thankful for. It was, perhaps, one small sign of hope. She didn't cry, and she didn't leave their bed.

Every night they made love. Every night they fell asleep together. But the days ... the days were painful. Abby was drinking again. She didn't come home drunk, but Luka knew she was drinking. Using all the tools that he himself was too familiar with to bury her pain. And Luka no longer tried to argue with her about it. The best that would happen, he knew was that it wouldn't help. And the worst ... she would leave.

That first day she'd come home well past dark. She had a bag of socks, two bars of soap, and the unmistakable smell of alcohol on her breath. She'd been cheerful, apologetic about being gone so long, and affectionate. Once in bed, she'd again thrown herself into his arms, tried to kiss him.

"Not tonight, Abby. Ok?"

"Aren't you feeling well?"

"I'm fine. I just don't think it's a good idea right now."

"You don't want me anymore?" Hurt, then "Maybe I should call Ralene for you?"

"Abby, stop it!" he had snapped. "I love you ... and I want you ... but not like this. This isn't going to solve anything."

"So speaks the expert on _that_. Just how long did it take _you _to discover that sex doesn't solve anything? What gives you the right to lecture me on it? I'm sure if things had been different you would _still _be ..."

She wasn't trying to hurt him. Luka knew that. She was making a rational argument. And he couldn't deny that she was right. He knew that sex couldn't cure pain, but it could mask it for a while, let him forget it for a while. And how could he deny _her_ what he had taken so freely himself so often, from so many women? At least he loved her. It might be meaningless for her, but it couldn't be for him.

"Please ... " Abby had whispered, on the edge of tears. "I need you." And he couldn't resist any longer.

Watching her sleep now, Luka couldn't help sighing a little. She needed him. She needed the only comfort she seemed to know how to ask for anymore, the only connection she seemed able to make with him. If he couldn't be loved, at least he could be needed ... and that was something.

He needed her too. Whatever she could offer him, he would take. The alternative would be to lose her completely, and _that_ was too painful to contemplate. He did love her, he was sure of that._He_ knew what love felt like. But more than that, he needed her. Despite everything, she was still the best thing in his life ..the_only_ good thing in his life. She had been there when he'd wakened after surgery. She had been there when he'd wakened, frightened and confused, in the ICU. And she'd been there every day since then. To lose her, to lose the only good thing to have come out of the nightmare ... could he face that? Was she really the only reason he had to go on ... to survive? He was stillfrightened ... still floundering, and she was the only anchor he had.

And that realization was painful too.


	36. Chapter 36

(Croatian pronunciation note: the word Pace _should_ have a diacritic mark over thec; the same one that _should_ be over the c in Kovac. Gives the letter a 'ch' sound, and the word is pronounced, roughly, Pach-eh.)

------------------

Abby snuggled closer to Luka, watched him staring into the darkness of the bedroom. He didn't say anything. Not that this was anything different. Not talking was easy. Just being together, not talking, not thinking was enough for her. She didn't need anything else, didn't want anything else. Except for Luka to be happy. She _knew _he wasn't happy, but she couldn't change that. There was nothing she could do to make him happy. She wasn't happy either, of course but she was used to it. Maybe she wasn't entitled to be happy. She concentrated on the feel of Luka's hand on her hair, the warmth of his body pressed against her own, tried to pretend it was happiness, and tried to fall asleep. And suddenly Luka spoke.

"I was just ... remembering."

"About what happened? About ... Brian?" Abby asked.

"No." Luka sat up suddenly. Concerned, Abby sat up too, but he didn't move any further, just smoothed the sheet over his knees. Abby took a cigarette from the pack beside the bed and lit it.

After a minute, Luka went on slowly, "There was this little girl, in the hospital. In Vukovar. She was about 6. They'd pulled her out of her house, what was left of it. Her family, her parents, her sisters ... I think she said she had 3 sisters ... they were all killed. She was the only one left. I don't remember her name. I should remember it ... but it's been so long. We used to call her ... not to her face, but when we'd be talking about her ... the doctors ... we'd call her Pace. It means ... Duckling.

"She was my patient. My supervisor assigned her to me. He thought I would be able to connect with her. I had a child about the same age ... a daughter ... none of the other interns had children. He thought I'd know how to deal with her, what to say to her. She had a concussion, some internal bleeding. She'd had surgery, was in a coma for about a week. When she finally woke up, I had to tell her that she'd lost her parents. She'd lost ... everything. I had to take care of her, look after her. It was funny, the head doctor thought we'd connect with each other ... and _she_ did. Connect with me. She thought I was wonderful. When she was able to be out of bed, she would follow me around while I worked, always asking me questions. That's why we called her Pace. One of the other interns joked one day that she was like a newly hatched duckling, the way they will ... what's the word ... imprint on the first thing they see? Think it's their mother?"

And she'd ask me to take her home with me at night. I'd told her about Jasna, she would say 'Jasna should have a sister. It's good to have sisters. I will be her sister.'" Luka trailed off.

"She sounds very sweet, " Abby said.

A shake of the head, a smile. "No, she wasn't. That was the problem. I didn't like her. She was ... a strange child. She wasn't very pretty, and it wasn't helped by the fact that they'd shaved off part of her hair. And she was just ... odd. I'm not sure why. She probably _had_ been a perfectly nice little girl ... before all this happened to her. It was a lot for a little girl to take in ... post-traumatic stress I suppose, though we didn't call it that. If we had, everyone in Vukovar would have been diagnosed with it. I'm sure if I had gone through what she did ..." Again Luka stopped talking, smiled to himself. Abby put a gentle hand on his arm but he shook his head. "I felt sorry for her. I took good care of her, gave her the best treatment I could, but I _didn't_ like her. I knew it wasn't her fault, but ...." A sigh. "I think also I resented her a little bit. I was seeing more of her than my own kids. I was working 7 days a week, 12 hour shifts, and with the shelling, sometimes I'd have to work even longer to keep up with the casualties, or be unable to get home between shifts because it wasn't safe to be outside.

"And then I'd feel guilty about how I was feeling, and I'd try even harder for her. It _wasn't _her fault, and I knew that. I'd bring her little presents sometimes. If I'd find something special at the market ... fresh fruit, or candy I'd give it to her. One day I found a can of apricots someone was selling. It cost almost a week's grocery money, but I bought it, and gave it to her. It should have been for my own kids. They ate bread and potatoes for 4 days so that Pace could have apricots. It wasn't right. It wasn't ... fair ..."

Luka fell silent again and this time didn't go on after Abby had waited a while. The story seemed to be over.

"You were being kind to a little girl who'd just lost everything. There's nothing wrong with that, Luka. I'm sure you made things a little better for her. And I'm sure your kids didn't begrudge her those treats._They_ still had two parents, a home."

"Yeah." Nothing more.

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know. We eventually located some relatives ... an uncle I think ... in Osijek. But we couldn't get her to him. The siege ... no-one could leave Vukovar, at least not safely. So she stayed at the hospital. There _were_ other places we could have sent her ... orphanages, families that would have taken her in. But I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to send her to live with strangers, after all she'd suffered. So she just stayed, even when she was mostly recovered.

"I ummm.... after Dani and my kids died, I didn't go in to work so much anymore. I couldn't. So I didn't see as much of her. The nurses ... I guess they saw that she got what she needed."

"Nurses are good for that kind of thing."

"And then ... when the city fell ... the hospital ...." Luka abruptly fell silent again. He took the cigarette from Abby's hand and started to put it to his own lips.

"You shouldn't be smoking, Luka."

A bitter look. "Neither should you." He took a long, slow drag, held it in his lungs for a moment, then let it out, stubbing the remains of the cigarette out on the surface of the bedside table.

"I'm sure she survived, Luka," Abby said after a minute, because she had to say something. "She'd be what ... 18 now?"

"Yeah. Around there."

"And I'm sure she blossomed into a real beauty. Ugly duckling kids usually do, you know."

"Were you an ugly kid?"

"Hell yes. I'll show you pictures some time. I don't have any with me, but Maggie has some. Anyway, she's probably spending her summers on the beach in Zagreb, strutting around ..."

"Zagreb doesn't have a beach. It's inland."

"Ok. Dubrovnik then. Whatever. The point is that her story probably has a happy ending. And since you don't know that it _didn't_ have one, why not believe that it did? She probably remembers you too, and thinks about you. Wonders what happened to that tall, cute young doctor who took such good care of her when she was scared and alone."

"Yeah." Luka swung his legs around the bed, picked up his shorts and started to put them on.

"Where are you going?" Abby had left their bed often enough before, but Luka never did.

"Nowhere. I'm not going anywhere, Abby." He started to leave the room, then paused in the doorway. "Tomorrow I'm going to call Kerry, tell her I'm ready to come back to work."

"Are you sure you are? It's only been a few weeks." He wasn't ready, Abby knew that. He was still too pale, tired too easily. Though maybe it was just unhappiness. Maybe going back to work_was_ what he needed. Something to distract himself from his unhappiness.

"If I have the energy to make love to you every night, I think I can handle a few sprained ankles and sore throats." He smiled, and his words were light-hearted, but there was no humor in his tone, or his eyes.

He left the room, and Abby lit herself another cigarette.


	37. Chapter 37

When she was certain Luka was asleep, Abby slipped quietly out of bed and put on her robe. It would be morning soon. She hadn't slept at all. She didn't have to get up for work today, but she couldn't lie in bed awake any longer. She couldn't lie beside Luka any longer.

In the kitchen she reached into the back of the cupboard where Luka kept the good dishes. The bottle was still there, still unopened, still waiting for her to need it badly enough. Luka hadn't found it. Abby opened it, got herself a glass.

"So, Jose ... I can always depend on you to be there when I need you ..." She poured three fingers of tequila, took a sip, then looked at the glass in her hand.

No, this wasn't the answer. Luka was right about that. This wouldn't solve anything, only make matters worse. It was time to stop running away, stop burying her pain. It was time to face things head on. Abby dumped the glass down the sink, then upended the bottle and watched, biting her lip, as the liquor went down the drain. Every drop of it.

Sitting on the couch Abby pulled her legs under her and shut her eyes, let her tongue taste the tequila still on her lips, tried to remember the way it could make her feel. It could make her happy. The only thing in her life that had ever made her happy. She was almost always a happy drunk, people had often commented on that. Richard didn't get drunk often, but when he did he was a mean drunk. Luka was usually a happy one though. One thing they had in common, anyway.

Oh well, the booze was gone now. No chance of getting any more until morning. So she'd have to look for happiness elsewhere. Or learn to live without it again.

She picked up the phone and, taking a deep breath, dialed. She almost hung up again before it rang, but made herself hold it to her ear, listened to it ring once, twice. After the third ring a sleepy voice answered, "Hello?"

"Hi. It's Abby. I'm sorry to be calling so early."

"It's ok. I have to be up for work in ..." Abby heard the rustle of bedding, "ninety minutes anyway. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I was just wondering ... is your couch still available?"

"What happened?" The concern in Susan's voice intensified. "Did you and Luka have a fight?"

"No, nothing like that. I almost wish we had. It would make this so much easier."

"I don't understand, Abby."

"Neither do I. But I do know that this isn't working. I think we just rushed into it too fast. Moving in together is _not_ a good way to begin a relationship."

"You didn't rush into it, Abby. You've known each other for years ... you were ... together ... before. And you were friends before."

"Yeah. Friends." A sigh. "We're great as friends, Susan. Or maybe it's that _I'm_ great as a friend. I know how to be friends, I know how to be a nurse, but I'm lousy at anything else. As soon as we decided to make it something more ... I guess I panicked. I always panic. He expects so much from me, I expect so much from myself ... and it scares me. I'm scared that I can't be the person he wants me to be. I'm scared that it will all fall apart again, that I'll be hurt ... that I'll hurt him.

"So I guess I'm making it happen. If I ... choose to break it ... it hurts less than if it comes apart on its own. Does that make any sense?"

"No," Susan admitted. "But I'm not the expert on relationships here. So maybe it does"

"There's so much pressure, the feeling that it _has_ to work. It's like it was with John. He was sure we were right for each other, meant to be together. Now, Luka is too. He's so sure ... and I'm so scared."

"But you were sure too, weren't you? You told me you loved him."

"I thought I did. Maybe I do. I know I feel guilty. Maybe I'm confusing guilt and concern for love. He was hurt because of me, Susan. I wanted to make it better, make it up to him. I couldn't fix_my_ pain ... make it go away, but maybe I could fix his. But I can't. The longer we're together, the worse it gets. Neither one of us is happy. And I hate seeing him unhappy. I don't know if I love him, but I know I don't want to make him miserable any more."

"So it's over then?"

Abby laughed a little. It was better than crying. "I don't know that one either. I know that _this_ is over. Maybe we can have something ... some time ... when I've figured out how to love someone. When I get to that point, I think I will be able to love him. But not right now." She chuckled again. "God, Susan ... I put most of my stuff in storage when I moved in, but I still managed to bring along every bit of baggage I own. And it's never felt so heavy."

There was a long silence, then Susan asked, "Have you told him yet?"

"No. Not yet. I'll tell him later. I just need to move out of here. I'll stay with you until I find my own place. Maybe ... if we start over again ... just dating ...if we take it slowly, something will happen for us. Or maybe we'll end up breaking up anyway. Or maybe he won't want that kind of relationship with me now. I don't know anything right now."

"Well, you're welcome to stay with me again. When do you want to come over?"

"I'm not working today. Can you pick me up after you get off? That will give me time to pack ... and tell Luka. Though I think he already knows. He has to know."

"Ican pick you up after work; no problem. And I'll even refrain from saying 'I told you so.'

"About what?"

"About somebody getting hurt."

"Yeah ... well ... I'll see you this evening then?"

"I'll be there."

Abby hung up the phone, closed her eyes and sighed. Sunday's paper should still be around here somewhere. She might as well start looking through the rental ads. She didn't want to impose on Susan any longer than necessary.

The paper would be in the kitchen. Abby rose to her feet and turned ... and opened her eyes.

Luka was standing in the bedroom doorway. How long had he been standing there? How much had he overheard? From the look on his face, Abby knew he'd been standing there a long time. Their eyes met. Abby knew she needed to say something, but nothing came out. Not even, 'I'm sorry.' Then Luka turned and went back into the bedroom, shut the door firmly behind him.

Abby found the real estate section and sat down to read it. But she couldn't see the words on the page. Her vision was too blurry.

_------------_

So, our story ends again. And yeah, I know it's another unhappy, albeit somewhat open ending. Even my daughter comments that I can't seem to write happy endings. But I try to keep my characters in character, and, at this time in their lives, Abby and Luka CAN'T be together, however much they might want things to be different.

Next up is to try and finish "Boy's Club," and try co-writing a fic with a friend. Thanks for reading.


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